


tu me manques

by fallingseasons



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 14:24:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16788715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingseasons/pseuds/fallingseasons
Summary: saudade(n.) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost~an old story about getting lost, falling in love, and hopping inside taxi cabs, retold.





	tu me manques

**Author's Note:**

> click below for the playlist:
> 
> [ the love that remains ](https://open.spotify.com/user/smdbestrada/playlist/4jUHiGxlVRb1HWQQJxEKDe?si=QtnyZfTQRmSY-x7jU4GCpw)

✈︎

P A R I S , F R A N C E

Mingyu does not see this coming.

Just as he had been standing in front of the Eiffel Tower to bid it goodbye, the clouds gather in the sky and the rain starts to pour. It also becomes his signal to run for cover, using his hands as a makeshift shield to keep him from getting wet. Being in the worst of circumstances, this, of course, does not help.

The famous monument he had once seen in photos and in films seemed too good to be true, but when the storm decides to take over the clear skies and invades the city of Paris, it only proves things otherwise.

Mingyu learns this the hard way, under the roof of a restaurant he can’t pronounce in soaked clothes and a very wet backpack. He has approximately two hours to spare before he flies back to Seoul, and another five minutes to think about how to get to the airport in time.

At this point, Mingyu thinks the best decision is to hail a cab, only this would bring even more problems because (1) Even if he could run in the rain to find a taxi stand, he’s about thirty meters away from the closest one, (2) He could try calling for a nearby taxi stand, but doesn’t have the slightest idea of where he is right now, and (3) He can’t speak french.

The third problem is reasonable. The first two are a result due to his lack of preparation and just plain stupidity.

The rain continues to fall hard and heavy, and the chances of a cab stopping for Mingyu under this drastic weather become zero to none. There are no signs of cabs driving around the area. He doesn’t even see people running in the rain without an umbrella over their heads. If Mingyu leaves his current position right now, he just might be one of the first.

The sky darkens and time continues to move, but Mingyu refuses to stay in one place. He waits for the rain to lessen before deciding to leave the restaurant. He charges into the rain and pulls the hood of his jacket over his head, cursing under his breath thinking why he hadn’t thought of this sooner.

He runs mindlessly down the streets—taking left and right turns down sidewalks—but he still has no clue as to where he is. He tries to retrace his steps from when he was last in front of the Eiffel Tower and along Avenue Gustave Eiffel. His mind betrays him when he recalls nothing after except travelling on foot with no destination. He could try to use his phone to search for a map, but he didn’t want to risk getting it wet and losing a phone in the process. He’s also tried asking locals about how he could get a cab, but they don’t seem to understand Korean all too well or even mind to help, walking past him instead.

Mingyu’s running out of ideas. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and he was bordering the line between desperate and hopeless.

His mind yells at him, asking himself the question that’s been at the back of his head since day one as to why he even thought of travelling six thousand miles away from Seoul. But panicking wasn’t going to help solve anything at this moment. So he shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders.

Mingyu stands under the rain absolutely doing nothing, feeling almost defeated. What he does, however, is sits things through on the edge of the sidewalk. Who knows, maybe a cab will just magically appear in front of him.

Whether it was coincidence or fate, a cab suddenly appears, making a sharp turn in the corner and passing by.

He doesn’t complain about the cab almost running his feet over and missing by just an inch. The moment he sees the window of opportunity, he seizes it.

Mingyu stands steadily on his feet, waving frantically and calling for attention as the cab drives away from him. He makes a run for it, heart beating fast in his chest as the adrenaline rush takes over his body when he chases it down to the middle of the street.

There are a number of people who notice the tall man, but Mingyu couldn't care less. The most important thing to him right now is making it to the airport in time for his flight.

 _So is his life_ , except Mingyu doesn’t think about that when he finally catches up to the side of the cab, breaking into a sprint and lunging forward. The vehicle comes to a complete stop, meters away from a possible accident.

He’s sure he’d heard someone scream having witnessed the scene, but as soon as the cab stopped in front of him, there wasn’t a lot of time he could waste.

Mingyu quickly steps inside the cab without any more thought. The leather seat feels comfortable when he leans his back against it, a loud sigh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes. He tries to drown out all other noise, especially the taxi man yelling—perhaps cursing him to hell—to breathe in his temporary peace.

Until another voice caves in.

“You do realize that the red light on top of the cab means it’s taken, don’t you?”

Mingyu's eyes shoot open and he quickly turns to meet the deep baritone voice, the person sitting right next to him inside the taxi. He can’t make out the his face inside the cab, but the faint light from the sky is enough for him to register the badges on his uniform and the cap on top of his head.

The taxi stays silent, stuck in the middle of the road as raindrops patter against the car windows. Mingyu doesn’t move.

“Are you going to ask me to leave?” he confidently asks.

“That depends,” the man says, “Where are you heading to?”

“The airport.”

The man inquires further. “Which one?”

“ _Charles de Gaulle_ ,” Mingyu answers.

There’s another brief moment of silence before the taxi man speaks again.

“ _Ou voulez-vous aller maintenant_?”

Mingyu doesn’t understand what he’s asking, but he’s hoping at least one of them does and waits nervously for the other man’s reply. The man is unfazed as he looks back at him, but even under the shield of his cap, he doesn’t miss the way he stares questioningly at him and his drenched clothes.

“ _L'aéroport charles de gaulle, s'il vous plaît_ ,” he says, eyes unwavering from his.

The taxi man peers over his shoulder—to Mingyu and to the pilot next to him—before stepping on the gas pedal.

He drives.

Mingyu feels his body give away from exhaustion, but he can’t help but smile even in his tired state. He laughs. He laughs because he’d been unprepared, yet only he can have such terrible luck.

He takes a quick glance at the man beside him and mutters a soft ‘thank you’. Before he can stay awake long enough to hear the man’s response, the world disappears in front of him.

S E O U L , S O U T HK O R E A

“Are you sure you don’t want to join me?”

The cool night air brushes over their skin, beer cans even cooler in their hands from which Soonyoung had pulled out from his plastic bag.

Some evenings, Mingyu’s neighbour would knock on his apartment door to have a drink or two settled on beach chairs under the stars and outside his balcony. It turned out he was the only tenant who happened to have a really good view of them from his unit.

Mingyu had just moved in from his foster home the first time it happened. It was both intruding and annoying, but it was a tiny apartment and Soonyoung’s presence was too loud for the silence. It took a great deal of patience for Mingyu to come around, and eventually, he didn’t seem to mind—more like he tolerated it.

Tonight isn’t any different. Mingyu had finished packing for tomorrow’s Jeju trip when Soonyoung knocked on his door, except tonight not only does treat him to a beer, he invites him to camp out together.

Before taking a sip of his beer can, Mingyu asks, “Is there a reason why I should?”

“Two, actually,” Soonyoung says before enumerating, “First, is because you’re my friend.”

“Won’t you have other friends going with you?” he bemuses.

“A few, plus my boyfriend who’ll be staying overnight on pilot duty. There’s always room for one more, which is why I’m asking you to join us. As a matter of fact, I think you’d get along great with them.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Mingyu teases, “It doesn’t look like we’re getting along right now.”

Mingyu doesn’t know if he’s okay with Soonyoung calling him his ‘friend’, but it wasn’t like they were unfamiliar with each other either. They lived in the same building—not to mention Soonyoung living right below his apartment unit. He’s not so bad, but maybe it’s because Mingyu had no one else. They shared similar thoughts about most things, and he was a fairly logical person to talk to.

If trust was a main factor to friendship, then maybe they could be friends after all.

“The second reason might help you change your mind,” Soonyoung says.

“Which is?”

“You’re alone.”

It’s funny how that doesn’t help at all, the words only making Mingyu laugh.

“All the more reason why I shouldn’t join you,” Mingyu tells him. “I’m always alone.”

“And tell me, how’d that go again? Want to share how that worked out for you at Paris?”

For the most part, Soonyoung knew the story about his recent trip: from how he lost his way in the middle of a storm, all the way down to reaching the airport in half-dry clothes and racing to the gate fifteen minutes before his flight. The more Mingyu thought about it, the more he thinks his circumstances had been far more better than not arriving at all. He would have missed his flight if it weren’t for that lucky cab ride and the stranger he shared it with.

Mingyu looks over to the side to spot a yellow umbrella leaning at the wall of his balcony.

“I did have help, you know.”

Out of all the things he mentioned to Soonyoung, he’d left out one important detail. He didn’t tell him he awoke to the taxi man’s relentless screaming, realizing that the stranger had ran off. He didn’t know his name. He couldn’t even remember his face. The only memory of him was the yellow umbrella he’d left with him inside the cab, a note lazily stuck to it in messy and rushed handwriting:

_ I’m gonna need the umbrella and ask you to pay me back someday. _

_ For now, don’t be late. _

“Sure, I know that,” Soonyoung says, downing his own can of beer and swallowing before he continues to reason out. “I just think that you should stop running away from things. We all need a little help sometimes, Mingyu.”

Mingyu disagrees, but doesn’t mention it. He knows he can make it on his own, and he will continue to do so. Words remain left unsaid as they continue to stare into the flurry of stars lighting up the cold Seoul night.

S E O G W I P O, J E J U

Mingyu emerges from the airport terminal minutes after landing and swiftly passing immigration. He exits the gate, tugging both straps of his backpack with his hands and hugging them tightly to his chest as he makes his way over to a taxi stand he spots at the corner. He’s the first in line but doesn’t see a single taxi parked. He doesn’t take the risk in leaving and stays in his place, using the time to bring out a map and see which places to visit.

Just as he reads a tourist guide at the bottom of the map, another man approaches the line and stands next to him.

Mingyu’s head shoots up on instinct, turning to find a young and slender man dressed in a pilot’s uniform. His cap is missing, but on the top of his head are soft raven curls. Their eyes suddenly meet, a deliberate smile suddenly crossing the man’s face that leaves Mingyu wondering why he’s looking at him like that. He tries to quietly focus on his map, until seconds pass by and the man’s stare continues to pierce through him from peripheral view, so much that it starts to make him uncomfortable.

He lifts his head once more to stare back at him.

“Can I help you with something?” Mingyu asks, feeling conscious from the attention he’s getting. “Is there something on my face?”

The pilot chuckles, but the accusatory look on his face entails something more. It almost seems as if he recognizes him, like he’d stolen something from him that he needed back.

“I just couldn't help but notice how you look more dried up than I remember.”

Mingyu’s brows furrow in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“I see that you actually did make it to your flight.”

Mingyu doesn’t follow at all, not even when the pilot gauges his face for a reaction and is disappointed to find none.

“Paris, three weeks ago?” he reminds him, “The storm and wet clothes? The taxi?”

Realization suddenly dawns on Mingyu, and his eyes almost grow double in size.

“Do you really not remember?”

_Don’t be late._

A curse slips out from Mingyu’s mouth in disbelief. It’s quick and low, but it’s enough for the pilot to hear, cocking an eyebrow at him. Mingyu realizes this and quickly blurts out an apology.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that—it really didn’t mean anything—I just..” He sighs. “I am so sorry. I honestly didn’t expect that I’d come across you here.”

It was the truth. Mingyu didn’t think he’d be able to come across him again. _Ever_.

A wave of laughter breaks from his face, grinning when he says, “I’m a pilot, if it helps. Let’s just say you’re most likely to see me anywhere. I thought I was setting myself up for embarrassment when you couldn’t remember.”

If there was anyone who should be embarrassed, it should be Mingyu. He didn’t think he would be able to forget that day without wanting the ground to swallow him up.

“It’s not exactly something I could just easily forget.” Mingyu tells him.

“Absolutely,” he agrees. “I mean, I don’t think I’ll be able to forget the face of a _cabnapper_.”

“Did you really just call me a ‘cabnapper’?” Mingyu asks, slightly offended. “It’s not even a word. Plus, it was an honest mistake.”

“Sure it was,” he mimics teasingly, “What would you like me to call you, then?”

Mingyu doesn’t know why, but for some reason, he catches himself smiling at the pilot and offering his free hand out to him. “I’m Mingyu.”

The pilot takes glances between Mingyu and his hand, then nods in acknowledgement as he takes it.

“Well, Mingyu, call me Wonwoo,” he introduces, shaking his hand and bringing it back to his side. “You know, suddenly bumping into you now means that I’m probably gonna have to ask for the things I said I would in the note I left the other time.”

Mingyu wishes he’d already forgotten about it, but it was only fair that he paid him back.

“Of course. Let me just..” He shrugs the backpack off from his shoulder, seizes it in front of him and unzips the pocket. “I don’t have your umbrella at the moment, but I can pay for your ride.”

“Take your time,” Wonwoo tells him, “You don't need to right now. In fact, you can do that once we get inside the cab.”

Mingyu stops short, looking at the implying smile resting on Wonwoo’s face.

“Oh,” Mingyu says, “You mean-”

“The last time I saw you, you were alone. By any chance, are you meeting anyone today?"

Mingyu doesn't even need to think about his answer.

“No. I’m not meeting anyone,” he firmly says, while Wonwoo nods in acknowledgement.

”Okay,” he comments. “Have you been to Jeju before? Do you have any plans or specific places you want to see?”

Mingyu has a feeling he’s not going to like where this is heading. He wonders what Wonwoo is trying to get at when he maintains eye contact, thin lips curling into a smile that is something akin to kitten.

He glances at the map in his hand with a pout, his eyes landing hastily back on the pilot’s. "Far from it, actually,” he mutters.

“Good,” Wonwoo says. “I’m meeting some friends downtown to camp out with them until the end of my layoff. Come with me.”

Mingyu runs out of words. “I’m sorry, what?”

“If you're going to act on impulse, it’s best to start downtown,” Wonwoo tells him, a smile still resting on his face. “It’ll also cost you less when you share a cab with me.”

Mingyu wants to tell him that he didn't mind spending a little more, that he could care less about the amount of cash he had in his pocket. It was easier to avoid this as much as possible. All he needs to do is politely decline Wonwoo’s offer and just pay for his ride.

“I don’t think I can,” Mingyu rejects immediately.

Surprisingly, Wonwoo doesn’t take no for an answer.

“You can’t or you won’t?” Wonwoo asks dejectedly.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m just not comfortable,” Mingyu tries to explain. Instead, it comes off as something unsure, as if it was something he frequently tells himself. But comfortable is familiar. He hopes it would be enough reason for Wonwoo to keep to himself, but the look on his face seems unconvinced.

“Comfortable, huh?” Wonwoo ponders, “That didn’t seem to be much of a problem at Paris when you were almost run over and coming inside my taxi.”

“Paris was different. It was—“

“ _An honest mistake_. I get it.”

As soon as a taxi approaches their direction, Mingyu suddenly feels cornered. He can only cast Wonwoo an apologetic smile.

“I can still pay for your fare,” Mingyu offers, but before he can pull his wallet out of his backpack, Wonwoo already dismisses him with a wave.

“I change my mind.” Wonwoo says, “You don’t need to pay me anymore.”

When Mingyu looks up, Wonwoo is meters apart from him, glancing at the taxi approaching them before his eyes land back on him. For a tall person like Mingyu, it’s surprising how he’s never seen anyone gaze at him with such determination in their eyes. He didn’t think he would feel so small.

“I’m not forcing you into anything,” Wonwoo tells him. “But sometimes, you’ll find the most beautiful places outside of being comfortable.”

Mingyu tenses, not knowing what else to tell him.

"We just met, Wonwoo,” Mingyu says. “Don’t you think we’re still sort of strangers?”

Wonwoo stands meters away in front of him, holding a gaze that’s almost mistaken as something similar to longing. 

“But we don't need to be."

Mingyu doesn’t understand what’s happening—why someone he’s encountered only twice in his life had even the slightest bit of concern about the choices he makes. He didn’t need anyone to decide about what he was going to do with his life when he’d done it all on his own for twenty four years.

He stands frozen in his place, words caught in his throat and keeping him from saying anything else. Seconds pass, and Wonwoo takes this as a sign to give up. He shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head as a sigh escapes his lips.

Mingyu doesn’t miss the mild disappointment in Wonwoo’s eyes when he sends him a rueful grin.

He remembers Paris and the note Wonwoo had left him along with his yellow umbrella. He remembers Soonyoung in his balcony saying we all need a little more help sometimes.

The taxi comes to a full stop in front of them, and Mingyu watches Wonwoo take a step back from him.

But as soon as the pilot turns away, he thinks maybe it wouldn’t hurt to know why.

It takes a courageous amount of seconds before Mingyu steps out of his comfort zone, reaching for the door the same time Wonwoo does, stilling when his hand covers his own.

Wonwoo faces him, regarding him with a surprised look.

“I, um—” Mingyu has to clear his throat before speaking, “I mean, for what it’s worth, I do owe you.”

Slowly, a smile grows on the pilot’s lips.

In the southern part of Jeju-do is _Seogwipo_ , a small town consisting of run-down businesses and old buildings along the rocky coastline and lush parks punctuated within the city. Mingyu remembers the taxi driver sparking a conversation with Wonwoo on their way there, talking about common landmarks and famous sights. Mingyu had kept silent throughout the whole ride but listened enthusiastically.

They stand by the coast where boats are moored to the end of a dock, watching the cab drive away while locals and other tourists walk past them. The air smells like a mixture of rocks and a bit of the ocean, the temperature moderately warm on a late sunny afternoon.

Mingyu’s black cotton shirt sticks uncomfortably to his skin, but when he turns to glance at Wonwoo and his disheveled locks, beads of sweat trailing down the sides of his face all the way down to his neck from the heat of his uniform, he can’t find it in himself to complain.

“They should be here anytime now,” Wonwoo says, tugging at the collar of his uniform several times to cool himself. “It’ll take them a few more minutes to get here in walking distance.”

“Okay,” Mingyu says. The air is quiet again, save from the sound of small waves hitting the ocean.

“I didn’t think you’d take my offer.” Wonwoo breaks the silence, the tone of his voice somewhat awkward.

“It’s because I owed you,” Mingyu answers calmly.

“I appreciate it. It must have been hard for you to do what you did today. I should have been more considerate.” Wonwoo glances with an apologetic smile. “You don’t seem to be easily persuaded to hang out with people. I can’t help but wonder what really changed your mind.”

Mingyu wonders the same thing. Even now, he still wasn’t sure about why he had chosen to hop in the same cab with the pilot at the last minute, and for the second time.

“I guess I—”

“Captain!”

With Wonwoo in front of him, it’s impossible to see the person calling from where he stood, but the familiar voice almost sounds just like the same person in his balcony just yesterday.

“Hey.” Wonwoo greets back. 

“How’s it going? You brought someone with you?”

The voice is much closer now, and Mingyu has to take a sidestep to see the person looking back at him, disbelief written all over his face.

“Mingyu?”

Soonyoung’s petite frame brushes past Wonwoo to pull Mingyu into a bear hug before he does anything to avoid it.

“You didn’t tell me you were planning to hit the south as well!” Soonyoung exclaims, pulling away from him to grip his shoulders in excitement.

“I wasn’t,” Mingyu grimaces. When he peers over Soonyoung’s shoulder, it’s only then that he notices a fresh face taking his place next to Wonwoo, the latter only staring back at him with an amused grin.

“I met him at the airport and invited him to camp out with us,” Wonwoo explains, eyes never leaving his. “He didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“We should probably get going,” a voice suggests. If Soonyoung had the average height, the man standing next to Wonwoo was slightly shorter with narrow shoulders. “Seungkwan and Hansol found a clearing close to Seongsan. They’ve probably finished pitching the tents.”

Soonyoung thinks out loud, observing Mingyu with a dumbfounded look.

“Huh.” He utters.

He releases his hold on him then gives Wonwoo a pat on the back.

Wonwoo and his friend walk straight ahead, leaving Mingyu to walk side by side with Soonyoung who waits for him. When he looks back at him, a knowing smirk threatens to make its way to his neighbour’s face.

“Change of plans?”

They reach the campsite by sundown, skies turning into an array of pinks and blues above them. Meat is passed around and pierced through barbecue sticks once they form a circle across the fire pit. Mingyu watches the flames burst into embers in front of his eyes. He tries his best to blend in with the group of five, memorizing names inside his head as he matches them to the faces he’d been introduced to earlier.

Soonyoung sits comfortably next to him and hands him a beer. Jihoon—the shorter male—takes the space next to him, casually bringing an arm around his shoulder while chugging on his own can of Coke. It feels oddly shameful to be drinking alcohol in the company of three pilots and a flight attendant on flight duty, but they didn’t seem to care.

There is little conversation directed to Mingyu, and he hopes it stays that way. He didn't want to have to explain things and talk about himself. Conversations weren’t a hard limit for him, but he had nothing else to contribute. Instead, Mingyu listens to the excited chattering around the fire as his gaze lands shortly on the ocean beyond the coastline.

Past the flames, Mingyu sees Wonwoo. He’s changed into more casual clothes—a plain white shirt paired with dark blue jeans and sneakers. He’s engrossed in talks with two of the new faces he’d met, Hansol and Seungkwan, laughing at something funny the couple have said. Mingyu can’t hear them, but a small smile threatens to form at the corner of his mouth.

It’s moments like these that Mingyu enjoys seeing the most—moments where contagious laughter spring about somewhere in a lovely town—wondering when he would be able to create some of his own.

“He’s a dreamboat, isn’t he?”

He’s pulled out from his reverie and led to stare at the person beside him. Soonyoung looks pointedly towards the pilot’s direction before facing him, a smug smile crossed on his face. “Jeon Wonwoo. He wouldn’t have brought you here if he didn’t know you. And I thought I was your only friend.”

Mingyu watches the way Wonwoo’s eyes crinkle and turn into thin curved lines, almost resembling tiny crescents.

“We’ve only just met,” Mingyu reiterates. “He doesn’t know me.”

Mingyu thinks they were barely even acquaintances — just two people stumbling into coincidences.

“Not to me,” Soonyoung counters. “Not with what I’ve seen. Even how he looks at you is different.”

Mingyu’s face changes, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Mingyu asks.

Soonyoung responds with a quick lift of his shoulders. “I don’t know how to explain it, but the way he looks at you is strange, like he’s been waiting for you as if you were some sort of sign from somewhere in the sky. I haven’t seen him this way since—”

He stops talking, like he’s choked on water. Mingyu senses there’s more to what he is telling him, but decides not to push things further. Mingyu thinks about the way Wonwoo had looked at him outside the Jeju airport—familiar and hopeful. There had been a flash of something else in his eyes, something he couldn’t comprehend.

He can still see Wonwoo through the flames, doubling over in laughter while Seungkwan and Hansol laugh along with him.

It doesn’t take long when Wonwoo’s eyes find its way past the flames to meet his. There’s something about the way the fire casts a marigold glow to his pale face that piques Mingyu’s curiosity, like the moon on a dark night.

When the pilot regards him with a smile —soft and genuine—he doesn’t find it all that difficult to return.

Mingyu stares into pitch black, lying awake as sleep evades him completely. The other campers have fallen asleep in their own tents while he occupied a spare, the quiet of the night keeping him company. Wind breezes through and leaves goosebumps upon his skin as he shifts in his position, furling inside the sleeping bag and closing his eyes.

Seconds drag into minutes; minutes feel like hours. The darkness within the confines of the tent almost suffocate him, and right now he wants nothing else but for the sun to soon take over.

Mingyu decides to head out. He crawls out from the cot, getting up to slip into his windbreaker before he unzips the tent.

As soon as he steps outside, the cool October air kisses his face, causing a shiver to run along the length of his spine. The midnight sky greets Mingyu when he looks up—a dark canvas of infinite constellations. He thinks about the times he’d spent on his balcony with Soonyoung, looking at the same stars as the one shining above him right now. It’s no wonder why some people preferred to stay outside.

Mingyu leaves the campsite and trudges into the woods. He walks in cautious but heavy steps, his feet landing on the grass with a loud crunch. It’s dark, but he uses the flashlight on his phone, waving it around while it illuminates the forest.

Minutes pass as Mingyu wanders aimlessly through the darkness and past the trees, leaves swaying to the wind’s hums. He doesn’t know how far he’s gone from the campsite, but when his legs start to ache, he knows he’s been away longer than he intended.

He walks farther into the woods in deep contemplation. The amount of thoughts spiralling in his head is unnerving, so coming into the forest seemed like the perfect way to run away from it. It reaches a point when the wind suddenly stops and the air turns stale, but the hairs on the back of his neck rise when he thinks he hears more footsteps than his own, unwelcomed thoughts of being followed by someone coming to mind.

“Mingyu?”

The voice is closer than he expects, but Mingyu is quick to turn around. Shock easily comes to him in quick rhythmic heartbeats. Startled, he yelps and throws his arms up as his phone flies out from his grasp.

Mingyu reaches for the gadget just as another hand does. He takes the person’s hand, quickly pointing the light of his phone towards his face to meet a pair of curious eyes looking back at him.

Wonwoo’s hand feels soft and warm in his own as he asks, “What are you doing here at three in the morning?”

The beating of his heart steadies, and Mingyu releases his hand before taking his phone back. It’s only then that he realizes that Wonwoo had also kept a flashlight in his other hand, flashing it right in front of Mingyu’s face before switching it off and bringing his hand down. He wants to ask him the same thing, knowing he’d made it deep into the forest and caught up to him. If Wonwoo hadn’t arrived, he’d be going in circles and will have to wait until the sky brightens.

“I was just about to head back.” Mingyu tells him.

“Right,” Wonwoo muses with a grin. “I didn’t think I would run into anyone in here. It’d be hard to return to the campsite at this time, but I guess what some people say is true—maybe you need to get lost sometimes so you can be found.”

Mingyu wonders if he means something more by what he said, but he knew that wasn’t the case for him.

“And now you’re here for some fresh air, I assume?” Mingyu comments.

“You could say that,” Wonwoo quips. He juts his chin towards the direction past Mingyu’s shoulders. “I remember seeing a road over there. We passed it before making it to the campsite. There’s also an olle trail that leads to Sunrise Peak, right next to the coastline. I wanted to make sure I come back for it, since this might be the only time I have before I leave for duty.”

A brief silence hangs loosely in the air as Mingyu stands awkwardly in front of Wonwoo. He can’t see much of his face with the limited light, but Mingyu almost mistakes the way his eyes seem to stare into his, as if he was waiting for him to do something.

Instead, Mingyu prepares to leave before the silence could drag on any longer.

“Well then,” he drawls, “I guess I’ll just see you later.”

The light leaves Wonwoo’s face as Mingyu walks slowly past him, towards the other direction. He steps away but stops dead in his tracks and turns to meet expectant eyes in the darkness, still waiting.

Mingyu thinks he might regret this.

“How long do you think we have until the sun comes up?” Mingyu inquires.

“About two more hours, I suppose,” Wonwoo guesses, “The hike from the trail usually takes up to an hour long. It could take longer depending on our speed, but I think we’ll have enough time.”

Mingyu wonders how it seemed so easy for Wonwoo to show parts of himself to the world—honest thoughts and pleasant smiles—when parts such as his own were difficult to give to anyone else.

He hasn’t found what he was looking for, but when the light in his hand casts a soft glow to his face, he finds that the sun is closer than it seems.

Chasing the sun turns out to be much harder than he thought.

“You’ve got to be kidding me right now.”

Wonwoo informs him that their hike has reached an hour and a half. Mingyu loses focus, bending down to grasp his knees and breathing hard. He remembers struggling through the first sixty minutes, taking breaks in between so he could try and catch his breath while Wonwoo searched for trail markers. It was still dark when they started the trail, but the night sky had faded little by little on the way, with hues of blue and purple peeking slowly from the horizon as they passed views of the sea and tiny villages.

“I think we’re close,” Wonwoo says as he rests a hand on his shoulder, weighing him down a bit. “The marker reads another kilometer.”

“You just said this five minutes ago,” Mingyu whines, still breathless. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Wonwoo reassures him with a pat on his leg. “Just a bit more, Mingyu. We can’t miss out on something like this, not now. Come on, trust me a little.”

“I think I’ve done enough trusting for today.”

“Then you can definitely trust me when I say I won’t hop inside your cab.” Wonwoo teases with an innocent smile, while Mingyu manages to glare at him.

“It’s just a few more steps.”

_ Another lie. _

They climb up the seemingly endless flight of wooden stairs, sweat dripping down Mingyu’s temples. He reaches a point when he feels like puking and his legs are about to give out below him, but Wonwoo is determined to reach the top and he’s lost all of his strength to complain.

So they keep climbing.

Mingyu takes one more step before letting his knees drop to the ground, hands pressed down on the surface. He exhales harshly and lets out a loud sigh.

“I can’t do this.”

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo tries to call but he waves him off.

“You go ahead,” he tells him. “I’ll just wait here.”

“But we made it.”

He looks up at Wonwoo, a proud smile drawn on his lips. “We made it, Mingyu.”

He lifts himself off from the ground and looks straight ahead.

The sight is absolutely breathtaking. There were no signs of other tourists or locals around, so they stand together perched on the edge where they can see the concave crater surrounded in bodies of water, absorbing as much of the picturesque scenery as possible before the sun rises.

It begins as a small rosy glow beneath the deep blue sea, soon turning into streams of light that paint the sky with a golden haze. As the sun ascends, Mingyu is filled with an overwhelming sense of astonishment.

There is something more special about the sunrise in a beautiful setting. Mingyu thinks it must be the promise of a new day with endless possibilities.

“Hey.”

Mingyu realizes that Wonwoo had been silent all along. He turns to him, already staring back at him with another one of his warm smiles. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For sharing this moment with me,” Wonwoo simplysays.

The sun creates the illusion of a halo around Wonwoo, and it is only then—with Wonwoo and the sunrise—does Mingyu find what he’s been looking for. He smiles.

_ A moment. _

T O K Y O , J A P A N

As soon as the doors of the train open, impatient passengers surge forward, moving in a rush to each of their destinations. Mingyu steps down just as the door closes and the train leaves, making his own way out of the station and taking the proper exit.

Mingyu had been better at planning and a little more equipped with research. A backpack had sufficed to carry everything he needed for another overnight stay, and soon enough he found himself starting his day in the streets of Yokohama before travelling next to Shibuya in the afternoon.

The weather was perfect outside, and Mingyu can already see Hachiko standing meters away as he heads toward it. It took three days for him to prepare this trip, and now he stands in front of the statue, smiling sadly while memories of Hachiko still playing like a reel in his head—scenes of the Akita standing in front of the train station every day, waiting for his owner to come back.

A wretched feeling resonates in Mingyu—the kind of feeling that brings questions to mind as to why things happened the way they did and why things didn’t happen the way they wanted it to. Hachiko waited nine years for an answer, but Mingyu had stopped searching for his own ever since, thinking maybe there was no other way to explain things other than this phenomenon called life and the many unprecedented events that come along with it.

“Have you ever waited for something you know might never happen again?”

Wonwoo stands a few feet behind him, hands fitted inside the pockets of his coat and looking over Hachiko’s statue with indecipherable eyes. An encounter with Wonwoo in a foreign place no longer surprises him, but it still leaves him wondering exactly why they were bound to meet as if gravity were pulling them towards each other.

The last time he’d seen the pilot was a week ago in Seogwipo. After the sunrise, Wonwoo took him back to the campsite then ascended to flight duty. Since then, he couldn’t deny that he didn’t think about him and their encounters and how one way or another, they’d created even the littlest impact in his life.

“Have you?” is what Mingyu asks. Thinking before speaking wasn’t his strongest feat—he realizes this just as Wonwoo’s face changes. Maybe this isn’t about the nine years of Hachiko’s life anymore, and Mingyu wishes he hadn’t returned the question at all.

But before he could even apologize, Wonwoo only offers a small wilted smile.

“Yes,” Wonwoo says quietly, “Yes, I have.”

They dine inside an intimate ramen shop nearby, its walls decorated in light wooden panels and cursive katana writings. The other tables are occupied with locals chatting away in lively conversations while a waiter serves their ramen bowls and a plate of aji tamago. The waiter takes a bow before walking away from them, silence taking over as it becomes palpable between them.

Mingyu watches Wonwoo move first—lifting his chopsticks to take an egg off the plate and bringing it between his teeth, then swallowing before he speaks.

“You seem to travel a lot.” Wonwoo says in an attempt to make conversation.

Mingyu follows suit and slices his own soft boiled egg with a spoon, scooping half of it into his mouth then answering back.

“Just trying to get to as many cities as possible.” Mingyu answers nonchalantly.

Wonwoo quietly observes the way he takes another spoonful of the egg and washes it down with a bottle of sapporo beer. He smiles.

“And how many cities have you been to so far?”

“Not a lot,” Mingyu answers truthfully. “Maybe not enough.”

“You say that as if you’re planning to travel the world.”

Mingyu looks up at Wonwoo with unabashed eyes.

“Maybe I am.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, taking another bite before speaking, “Anyone can say that, but at what cost?”

“At any cost.”

Wonwoo faces him. He tilts his head to the side, looking into Mingyu’s eyes with intrigue.

“I already knew you traveled on a whim when I first met you. Sure, it’s fun, but it’s not as grand as you think when you don’t know where you’re going.”

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re being serious when you make a living out of it,” Mingyu counters. “You might not be able to understand, but it’s just something I plan to do.”

“Well, I am serious.”

“Then so am I.”

They make room for another period of silence. The longer he drinks, the more the beer leaves a bitter taste on Mingyu’s tongue, placing the bottle down just as Wonwoo’s voice invades the quiet.

“You’re right. I guess I don’t understand.”

Mingyu shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

“But I can try to understand,” Wonwoo tells him. “It’d be interesting to know what it would feel like to live in your shoes.”

He quickly dismisses the thought. “I don’t think you’d want that.”

“Why not?” Wonwoo asks. “It’s not a big deal, just like you said.”

“That’s precisely why we shouldn’t talk about it.”

Wonwoo stares intrudingly, looking at him as if he knows him. “There’s a reason why you’re running off to places as far as Paris.”

Mingyu stops eating and places his chopsticks down on the table, focusing on Wonwoo and the way he’s looking at him searching for answers he didn’t want him to find. 

He was tired and hungry, and sane enough to snap at the pilot.

“Perhaps there is. But, tell me, _Captain_ ,” Mingyu strains the word, speaking somewhat irritably, “What would you have done if the person who took care of you all your life lied about your dead parents and kept a shitload of money under your name? Would you have moved to a bigger city? Would you have flown across the country the same way I did?”

The weight of Mingyu’s words catches Wonwoo offguard, refraining him from saying anything else.

The abrupt silence makes Mingyu uncomfortable. He takes a deep breath and cards his fingers through his hair, frustrated. He distracts himself by taking back the chopsticks and mixing the noodles on his ramen. 

Wonwoo leaves his food untouched.

“What happened?” He asks carefully.

Mingyu continues to stir the noodles on his bowl, avoiding his eyes. “Car crash.”

“I see.”

Mingyu knows he’s said too much, at least more than what he’s shared with anyone else, let alone Soonyoung. He didn’t want to see the pity in people’s eyes, because that’s not what he needs.

“What were they like?” Wonwoo asks inquisitively.

“I wouldn’t know,” Mingyu tells him. “I didn’t know them.”

When he looks into Wonwoo’s eyes, sympathy is the last thing he sees. The pilot doesn’t look away from him, eyes staying completely trained on his as if they were staring deep into pieces of him he intended to keep hidden.

But for the first time in his life, Mingyu doesn’t stop talking.

“I lived in a small house at Anyang with a foster mother, and her daughter, Minsu. Things were peaceful back then. She never spoke to me about any parents, and I never brought it up. Things seemed easier that way.”

Wonwoo listens intently to Mingyu just as he continues speaking.

“Apparently, they were real. I found out about their death the same time she had. She cried nonstop through the other end of the line when I saw her in the kitchen. I didn’t know who she was speaking to, but it must have been someone important. It didn’t matter to me then, and I realized that not only did I have to grieve for my father and my mother, but she would also have to grieve for what I couldn’t see them as—her family.”

“It was three days later when she told me about the money. It turned out they’d been sending money every year to a bank account under my name. They’ve been putting my name on most of their savings stated in my father’s will. Could you imagine that all this time I was left to think that someone else had paid for my school tuition, paid for the food on my plate? All those secrets were kept from me, but I couldn’t be angry. I was treated kindly, and it was useless to talk about it at this point. But as soon as I found out, I did the only thing I thought I could do—I left.”

“I thought about my parents, and whether or not I should blame them for weaving all those lies. I knew nothing about them, but I always thought it was enough for me to think that they threw me away, as if I was an accident they just couldn’t deal with. As if that wasn’t enough, they even tried to make up for it with a ton of cash.”

A single tear falls to his cheek, and when Mingyu suddenly realizes Wonwoo silently watching, he quickly uses the back of his hand to wipe it away and break contact with the other’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu laughs bitterly, accompanied with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Surviving in this world and their money is the only thing that reminds me of them. It’s not like they gave me anything else. You must think I’m stupid.”

Wonwoo’s stare is unreadable at this point.

“Do you want me to tell you what I really think?”

Mingyu wrinkles his nose and sniffs, glancing at him. “Sure.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo leans forward across the table, seeking Mingyu’s eyes to catch his attention. “I think that you’re not giving yourself or your parents enough credit.”

Mingyu crosses his arms, regarding him with a cautious look.

“So, your parents might not have been the best. Sure, they might not have been anything to you at all, but maybe they’ve given you something much more valuable than you realize.”

Mingyu laughs haughtily, less than convinced. “Which is?”

He tries to hide the shock that strikes through him when Wonwoo suddenly reaches for his hand, bringing it in his.

Their ramen bowls have turned forgotten and cold, but the warmth in Wonwoo’s hand remains, giving Mingyu an answer in the simplest way.

“Life. So, rather than surviving, wouldn’t you say that you’re living?”

They pass the time and stand before the Scramble Crossing. Every few minutes when the light turns green, the intersection is filled with noises of pedestrians swarming every corner while buildings burst with neon advertisements. Mingyu continues to watch locals weave and dodge through the busy road, thinking he would have to take the train back to Yokohoma again.

“Are you heading that way?” Wonwoo asks, pointing across the intersection and to the train station where Hachiko stays.

“Yeah.” Mingyu faces him. “I should probably leave now before it closes.”

Strangely enough, Mingyu feels lighter somehow, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulder. The lights are blinding but pleasant, and Wonwoo is looking at him with a smile that’s familiar and pure.

The pilot answers with a nod. “Have you thought about where you would be off to next?”

Mingyu continues to stare at the neon lights above them when he answers.

“Not yet. but that’s the point, isn’t it? Do I go somewhere new? Should I be someplace far? Who knows where I’ll be going?”

“Good,” Wonwoo tells him. “That means I can look forward to doing this again next time.”

The light finally turns green and Mingyu steps forward, blending in with the sea of people. In the middle of the intersection, he turns back to greet Wonwoo with a playful bow, a laugh quickly escaping the pilot. A tinge of excitement rushes through him, already thinking about the next time he and the pilot would cross paths.

S E O U L , S O U T H K O R E A

The next time Soonyoung visits Mingyu to gaze at stars outside his balcony, Mingyu doesn’t expect him to bring up a topic such as the pilot’s whereabouts.

“Wonwoo dropped by the other day to drop off some stuff I lent to him,” Soonyoung tells him.

“Yeah?” Mingyu asks, glancing casually at the other while he drinks from his beer bottle.

“Uh-huh,” Soonyoung quips. “He mentioned that you guys met and hung out a week ago at Tokyo.”

“It was just one dinner,” Mingyu confirms, then quickly notices his neighbour’s probing eyes before asking, “Why are you looking at me like that? You know that wasn’t the first time that I bumped into him.”

Soonyoung lets out a bitter laugh before mocking him. “Yeah, I should know, except you forgot to mention that it was his taxi you took at Paris!”

It takes a while before Mingyu responds, stilling at the memory of their first encounter.

“He told you that?”

“Only because you didn’t,” Soonyoung counters.

“I didn’t know who he was at that time,” he reasons out. “I barely even recognised his face the second time I met him at Jeju.”

“Were you even planning on saying anything as soon as you realized it was him?”

“Why would I?” Mingyu asks. “I didn’t think it would matter.”

Soonyoung shakes his head. “Maybe to you, it didn’t. But, apparently, it matters to some people.”

Mingyu wants to ask him what he means by that, but it doesn’t take long before Soonyoung pulls something out from his button-up shirt—a piece of paper tucked unruly on his breast pocket. He flattens the paper in his hands before handing it to Mingyu, smiling apologetically at how he’d almost ruined it.

“He came by pretty late. I’m sure he would have given it directly to you if he had more time, but well, he had a plane to catch. Typical of him—that boy never stays in the same place.”

Mingyu takes unsure glances between Soonyoung and the paper he is holding out to him and wonders if he was mistaken for someone else, taking it only when the other returns an expectant gaze and a shrug.

He looks at the postcard in his hands. The photo catches his eye in an instant, drawing him in with a grid of beautiful and unfamiliar landscapes. In the middle of the photo grid is a ribbon with a name printed in bold and cursive six letters.

“Glasgow, huh?” Soonyoung asks, “Why would he give you a postcard from Glasgow? You’ve never even been there before.”

At the back of the postcard is a list of places scribbled in bullet points. Below them are flight details along with a message—three words, the same words he’d used the first time they’d met:

_ Don’t be late. _

“You’re right,” Mingyu agrees. “I think that’s why he gave it to me.”

His eyes still linger on the card when Soonyoung peeks next to him, reading the same message. When he meets Soonyoung’s questionable look, he concludes, “This is where he’s leading me.”

“Why would he do that?” He asks, “It doesn’t make sense that he would do something like this.”

Mingyu wants to agree with his neighbour, but he stays tight lipped with thoughts floating high like the stars in the quiet night.

“Will you go?”

Mingyu contemplates, looking at the postcard one more time before shooting it inside the back pocket of his jeans. “I don’t see why not,” Mingyu says. “I don’t have anything to lose, don’t I?”

“So, that’s it? You’re telling me that you’re actually flying to Glasgow and taking Wonwoo’s flight just because he asked you to?” Soonyoung asks, eyes wide in surprise when he doesn’t answer him. “Wow, this wasn’t what I expected at all.”

He downs his bottle before returning a question, “What did you expect then? I’m always alone anyway, you said so yourself.”

“I know what I said, but that doesn’t mean it’s not surprising to see how quickly you’ve warmed up to Wonwoo, just as much as he did to you.”

Soonyoung isn’t the only one that has noticed the sudden change. Mingyu knows how different he’s become and how his mindset about the world had no longer been limited to his own. As soon as Mingyu opened up to Wonwoo in Tokyo about his life, he realized he had already given him the power to break down his walls, little by little.

“Look,” Soonyoung starts, “It’s great that you and Wonwoo share more things in common than just—I don’t know taxi cabs? His intentions may be good, but… Maybe you shouldn’t expect anything else.”

Mingyu turns to face Soonyoung as concern marred the latter’s face. Before his friend can welcome any other thoughts in his head, he quickly dismisses the idea.

“Whatever it is that you’re thinking of right now, please stop because it’s not what you think.”

“I can’t help it,” Soonyoung reasons out, “You may not think anything about it now, but when something does happen, it will be all that you will think about. I just don’t want you to feel disappointed in the end.”

“Soonyoung,” he calls out, “I don’t.. I don’t see him in the way that you think I do, so what on earth could I possibly be disappointed about?”

Soonyoung pauses, hesitant at first.

“Wonwoo...he’s been through stuff.”

“So have I,” Mingyu defends. “What does that have to do with Glasgow?”

“Nothing,” Soonyoung mutters before shaking his head. “You know what? I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not even my business. I guess I have you to thank. The things that happened to him in the past really broke him, and I’ve never seen him this excited in a while.”

Without thinking, Mingyu's words flow out of him, with equal parts of uncertainty and reassurance.

“This could be a good thing. Maybe for both of us.”

Soonyoung smiles and takes his hand in comfort. “Just don’t hurt each other, okay? He’s my friend too. I’ve known him for a very long time.”

Despite Mingyu’s spontaneous escapades with Wonwoo, he realizes that the pilot knows things about him that most people don’t know about when in return he knows so little about him.

As they sit in silence, he thinks about what Soonyoung said, and it makes him all the more curious about Wonwoo.

Mingyu only answers with a smile. “And I’m getting to know him.”

G L A S G O W , S C O T L A N D

Mingyu pushes the trolley cart forward as its wheels turn underneath, hurrying as he keeps in mind that he has to find him. When Mingyu exits the baggage claiming area, he catches him already standing by the arrival gate—face calm with a posture that poses an effortless confidence.

Despite the amount of people inside the airport, Wonwoo’s eyes quickly meet his own, a mix of surprise and anticipation suddenly playing in his smile and tugging his lips upward.

Whether it was because Mingyu was in a different country or because of the person standing a few steps away from him in an unfamiliar place, the excitement makes his heart race anyway.

“You got the postcard.” Wonwoo says when Mingyu makes it in front of him, watching him take his luggage out of the cart and pull it right next to him.

“I sure did,” he agrees, returning a small and shy smile while he continues to joke. “I should warn you though, I’m not very good at being spontaneous.”

The remark makes Wonwoo laugh a bit, his eyes shortly curving into thin crescent lines just like how he remembered them.

“I’m happy you came anyway,” Wonwoo answers. “There are a few places I thought we could visit that you might enjoy. We should be able to fit them all in one day to make the most out of the city.”

“I’ve got time,” Mingyu tells him. “I haven’t booked a return flight yet, so it doesn’t matter. I wanted to be sure I wouldn’t miss seeing what this side of the world has to offer.”

Wonwoo’s eyes shortly focus on something behind him, but says nothing about it. Instead, he reveals an even brighter smile.

“Well, I’m sure the world will definitely surprise you.”

Mingyu notices the sunrays that peek from the glass window above them, trying to compete with the light in Wonwoo’s smile. The lights cast a glow on his face that only does more to illuminate him, creating another wondrous kind of sunshine. For a moment, Mingyu thinks that maybe it already has.

As they stand side by side and prepare to leave the airport, Wonwoo takes one more look at the yellow umbrella sticking out from Mingyu’s backpack, true to his promise.

“You can keep the umbrella, by the way,” Wonwoo says, “Just make sure you don’t poke someone with that thing on your back.”

On their first day in Glasgow, Mingyu learns that in order to define the future, you can never run away from the past.

They take a shuttle bus to the city centre and check in at a tiny hostel Wonwoo had booked in advance before catching the subway that leads to the Kelvingrove Museum. As soon as they reach their destination, the day turns as busy as the locals and tourists swiftly making their way inside the momentous building to take a glimpse of the numerous art designed by the likes of Scottish artists.

From the Kelvingrove Museum, they walk up to the West End and visit the Botanic Gardens, where tulips color the ground with the most vivid hues the same way exotic tropical plants catch their attention, showered in natural sunlight inside the Kibble Palace.

Mingyu discovers that Wonwoo wasn’t one to bring a camera and take much photos.

“I’m more of an observer,” Wonwoo explains. He thinks it’s more than enough to see things with the naked eye.

“It’s nice to be prepared and keep photographs to preserve them,” Mingyu lectures, swaying his mirrorless camera as it hangs loosely around his neck. “I’d like to think that we keep our memories the same way. We make sure they don’t disappear or fade, otherwise we’ll easily forget them. Who knows what these photographs will mean to us later?”

He lifts his camera up to bring it at eye-level, quickly snapping a photo of wildflowers rooted on a garden patch.

At one point, he catches Wonwoo by the tree ferns surrounding him inside the glasshouse. He doesn’t notice when Mingyu pulls his phone out from his pocket, opening the camera app and keeping his first memory with Wonwoo in Scotland.

Soon afterwards, they grab late lunch at a little restaurant somewhere off the main street, enjoying the scent of fresh cilantro in the air and the taste of vietnamese Banh Mi. Once their stomachs are filled, they leave West End and make their way to George Square to pay homage to other Scottish greats, monumental statues and buildings situated around them.

The walking and running off from one place to another keep their conversations to a minimum. The city of Glasgow does the talking for the two, entertaining them with its Victorian buildings and wealth of Scottish art and culture.

By the time they finish visiting the Glasgow Cathedral and walk along the Necropolis, the sun begins to set as they read the names carved on tombs and graves when they pass them.

“This day has been pretty historic,” Mingyu says.

“I bet we haven’t even seen half of the history created here,” Wonwoo comments.

He wasn’t wrong. It somehow frustrates Mingyu, how one can never really know everything about the history of a person or a place, no matter how much historians or theorists try to explain and prove the past. Perhaps people will only ever hear the history others constantly change.

Sometimes, Mingyu wishes he could erase his own history, tear off the first few chapters of the book he was leading and wipe the slate clean, become a whole different person.

“Have you ever thought about changing your own history?” Mingyu suddenly asks.

Wonwoo has his hands in the pockets of his coat when he sneaks a glance at him, walking continuously down the hill. “Why do you ask?”

He stares down at their shoes, taking slower steps. “No reason,” he answers. “I just… I just think life would be better if some of the things that happened in my life didn’t happen at all.”

“Wouldn’t that be much more worse? Throwing away parts of your history would be like taking away parts of yourself.”

“Your history must be really great, then.” Mingyu retorts.

“You don’t have to make this a competition, Mingyu,” Wonwoo tells him. “Just because we’ve been through different histories, it doesn’t mean someone’s past is better than the other.”

“So are you saying you’ve never even thought about it? You’ve never thought about taking past events in your life—especially the bad ones—and wished there was something you could have done to change them?”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond right away.

They let a few minutes of silence settle between them. Mingyu wonders if he’d spoken out of line again, struck another chord in Wonwoo and if he was angry about it. Instead, the pilot answers him.

“Sometimes,” Wonwoo speaks. “I wouldn’t exactly say I would change the past, but if I could go back to the most important days of my life, I’d make sure to relive them all, maybe feel some things twice. I would understand as much as I can about why sometimes things become beyond our control, then make the other days count before it ends. Before the good turns into the bad.”

Mingyu watches Wonwoo’s soft smile as it slowly detaches from his face, a hint of his history still hidden in his eyes.

It fascinates Mingyu how he will never know for sure, that despite anything that Wonwoo says, there will still be things he may never know about him: what Wonwoo’s first word was. What Wonwoo felt when he learned how to fly his first plane. What Wonwoo’s first kiss tasted like.

It shouldn’t really bother Mingyu, but there is so much history in Wonwoo waiting to be discovered.

“Tell me about your important days, Wonwoo,” Mingyu says. “The good and the bad.”

He shares Mingyu a deep and thoughtful look.

“For starters, there’s the day I was born," Wonwoo enumerates, "There’s the day I graduated from pilot training three years ago, and flying international flights since then. There’s also that day when my niece turned eight and her nose bled for the first time. I’ve never seen anyone so brave.”

Wonwoo looks at him like how he’d looked at him at Tokyo in front of Hachiko’s statue, one full of longing and remembrance.

Mingyu offers a smile, but it only falters the moment Wonwoo opens his mouth to speak once again.

“Then there was this person I met five years ago.” Wonwoo tells him. “He was quiet, but his eyes spoke to me with a million words. He didn’t smile often, but his laugh reminded me of christmas lights dancing all around. He was contagious. Being with him was thrilling, he knew how to take my breath away with the things he did. I remember I kept telling myself that someday I was going to spend my life with him. On the first day of one beautiful April morning, that’s exactly what I did.”

It catches Mingyu in surprise. He doesn’t register the words right away, not until Wonwoo combs his soft raven locks with his hand, the piece of silver around his ring finger in sight. He wonders how he never noticed. Now he can’t stop looking at it.

Mingyu has questions. There were quite a lot of them to ask, but he can only think of telling him one thing in this moment.

“I don’t think any of those days sounded bad.” Mingyu finally says.

“They weren’t,” Wonwoo agrees with eyes glistening, “Except for the rest of the days that followed when he left.”

Wonwoo says it so well, that when Mingyu looks at him an impassive grin shows up on his face, looking back at him as if the words he’d just said no longer had a hold on him, like it had been just another chapter of his own book.

They stop in front of a random monument to take in the dark surroundings. The sun had finished setting then, the wind blowing colder than before.

“I think that’s enough history for today,” Wonwoo says.

Before Mingyu can say anything else, Wonwoo walks ahead of him to leave the cemetery, and he is left alone with thoughts about grief and what losing someone feels like.

Their second day is just as busy as their first.

They leave the hotel after nine and join a tour to the Glasgow School of Art to see the new building while the old is in restoration from a fire that took place two years ago. The tour includes a fifteen minute talk about how the buildings were constructed and a rushed exhibition of old furniture.

Mingyu thinks it’s interesting, and it was more than enough information to distract him from the past he learned from yesterday.

Wonwoo had been the same person he was the last few times they’d met. Once in a while, he would casually talk to Mingyu about random stuff, his history long forgotten and buried like the bodies in Necropolis.

Mingyu likes to think they were similar—like onions with layers. He wonders if he would be able to peel off more of Wonwoo’s layers. Was this the same feeling he had when he asked him about his own past? Were they both waiting to peel off layers they didn’t want to show?

After the tour, they take the closest train to Buchanan Street, strolling past high end shops and catching afternoon tea at the Willow Tea Rooms. Their White Dining Room is full of elegant high chairs and bright interior, with different homemade delicacies served on a 3-tiered stand, tea or coffee on the side.

They take turns in tasting pastries: Wonwoo grabs the buttered shortbread while Mingyu places a scone on his plate, both satisfied with their choices. He scoops strawberry jam from a container with his knife, smearing it on his half-bitten scone when Wonwoo grows curious and asks if he could try some.

Mingyu pauses, glancing at Wonwoo from under his lashes and placing the knife on his plate before he hands the scone from across the table and around the tier.

“Here.” Mingyu answers.

Some of the jam spills on one of his fingers, drooping from the scone. It’s sticky, staining Mingyu’s hand with strawberry red. He waits for Wonwoo to take the pastry. Instead, Wonwoo grabs his forearm, pulling him just as he leans forward and takes the scone to his mouth, the edges of his lips closing in on the tips of his fingers.

Mingyu doesn’t know what to do. He can’t see much from how the tier blocks his vision, but finds a space between the second and third level of the tier and catches Wonwoo staring back at him, biting slowly on the bread enough to let a streak of red slip from his lips.

He pulls back in an instant, his insides turning rigid in panic. He looks at his hand to see what’s left of the scone, which isn’t much.

When Mingyu looks at Wonwoo, there’s a tight-lipped smile on his dripping face, as if he was controlling himself not to burst out into fits of laughter.

Mingyu breaks first, laughing uncontrollably as he stares at the sad looking piece of bread. Wonwoo’s laugh follows like the second voice to a song, harmonizing with his own wave of chuckles. It feels like the ice had finally been broken.

In this short moment, history becomes irrelevant.

The night starts early with champagne from the tea room. Their schedule is empty for the rest of the day, but soon they agree to return to the West End when Wonwoo mentions a street where thrift shops and tiny pubs are located.

It’s a little past five in the afternoon once they set foot on Ashton Lane. They quickly find a bar and step inside, each ordering a pitcher of beer and swallowing them down before they stumble into another pub to start again. It turns into a cycle of bar hopping, with conversations between them growing louder and funnier.

By the time they make it to their seventh bar, they learn more and more things about each other, such as Wonwoo once wanting to be a teacher like his mom. At their eighth bar, Mingyu shares that his favorite color is gray, like the color of clouds when it starts to rain, or the color of stainless steel. Wonwoo asks him why he’s so specific, but earns another laugh for an answer.

Hours later, they end up in the middle of the street somehow, lying with their backs against the cobblestone ground and staring up at fairy lights hanging above them.

They aren’t drunk, but their minds are a bit fuzzy. There’s not much people from the time they were there, but even if there were, they didn’t seem to pay attention.

If there is one thing that Mingyu likes about the silence that appears tonight, it’s one that is comfortable. It just so happens that the quiet he finds pleasant and not deafening had always been with Wonwoo. He’s still trying to figure out why that is.

“I was thinking,” Wonwoo suddenly speaks, “That maybe it’s time to leave Scotland.”

“How soon?” Mingyu asks lazily, almost similar to a slur.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

Mingyu continues to gaze up at the fairy lights, his blissed out face changing into something of mild confusion.

“Oh,” Mingyu utters. “I didn’t think it was that soon, considering how we’ve only been here for two days. I thought we’d have more time to explore the city.”

“Do you feel bad?”

“Not really,” Mingyu tells him, “But if we plan to leave tomorrow,shouldn’t we be booking our flight by now? Don’t tell me you’re flying a plane. We just had more than two gallons of alcohol, for crying out loud.”

Wonwoo has the decency to laugh at his blabbering before he replies, “Take it easy. I wasn’t done talking. There’s actually something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

Mingyu turns his head to lock eyes with Wonwoo’s bright ones.

“If I promised you the world right now, even just portions of it, would you come with me to see it?”

Mingyu thinks his head is spinning. “What?”

“Is that too weird?” Wonwoo asks. “Should I repeat myself?”

“No, it’s fine, but—”

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo calls, his name drawling out from his lips so comfortably, “If there is one place you could go back to, what’s the first thing that pops into your head?”

Strangely, Mingyu thinks of taxi cabs, the french pocketbook that he’d never taken out of his bag, and Wonwoo’s yellow umbrella. He thinks of the eiffel tower, where all of this began.

“Paris,” he answers. “I want to go back to Paris.”

Wonwoo smiles.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“Let’s just say that I got train tickets that lead to two destinations. We’ll take a side trip to Amsterdam for a bit to rest, then hop into another train to Paris. Paris is always a good idea, don’t you think?” Wonwoo says this so easily, like going out of his way to book train tickets in advance for him and a stranger he wasn’t even sure would make it is as easy as buying tickets to a movie.

Mingyu isn’t sure if what he heard is right. He can’t think straight with his head throbbing and his heart beating loud in his ears. It just doesn’t make sense to him how Wonwoo has everything planned out, served to him on a plate. So the only thing he could do is ask a straightforward, “Why are you doing this?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not so sure either,” Wonwoo confesses. “I just know that from the moment I met you, I knew I needed to do something to help you.”

“But why?” Mingyu asks again, “I haven’t done anything for you.”

Wonwoo pauses for a moment, facing him with eyes that gleam under the night lights.

“Maybe I didn’t want to be too late, before someone walked away from me again.”

Mingyu had never—not even once—thought to be thankful for his life, or anything else for that matter. Maybe he should be, because if they hadn’t come to Glasgow, if they hadn’t watched the sunrise at Jeju, if he hadn’t stepped inside Wonwoo’s taxi cab at Paris, he wonders what kind of history would take place.

A M S T E R D A M , N E T H E R L A N D S

The Eurostar makes two train changes to get to Amsterdam. As soon as they step out of the train from Glasgow Central, they take a ten-minute stride from London Euston to St. Pancreas and hop into the Thalys train enroute to Brussels.

It would have been a hassle if Mingyu traveled alone, especially taking into consideration the amount of people he had to bump into while finding their own way around the train stations. He disliked being part of a crowd, but with Wonwoo leading the way, he thinks it’s not as bad.

Mingyu watches Wonwoo quickly fall asleep just as they settle inside a booth on opposite ends from each other. It’s been that way since they rode the last train; Wonwoo would either be reading a book or casually drifting into slumber, while Mingyu would silently watch him with his earphones attached to his ears, indie folk music playing to the movement of the pilot’s steady breathing.

He discovers that he actually enjoys this—watching Wonwoo sleep. Every few minutes his eyes would flutter open just to see if they’ve finally reached their destination. Mingyu would shake his head with a brief smile, and he would always return it with an even softer one, his lazy eyes locked on his before resuming sleep and closing his eyes again.

In these brief moments, Mingyu indulges himself in the thought that maybe they were much more similar than he originally thought they were. Like onions with layers, Mingyu learned something new about Wonwoo day by day, like how he preferred sunny side up eggs over scrambled eggs for breakfast. Same as how Wonwoo had learned that Mingyu wore mismatched socks on a daily basis. Mingyu was a traveler who wanted to see the world, and Wonwoo flew planes, having seen most of it. Together they journeyed with tourists and locals through unexplored city gems. It was a reality they both shared.

But in these brief moments inside the train, they are left in their own state of realities: Mingyu mourning the death of parents he never met, and Wonwoo grieving over a love lost.

Mingyu continues to watch Wonwoo sleep soundly, his head resting close to the window of the train and worries left behind him, the same way Mingyu drowns reality out with the songs in his head.

He thinks it makes perfect sense, how in these moments of unperturbed silence, they did all things to escape from it.

Alone, together.

The train speakers resound with an announcement of their arrival at Amsterdam Centraal. Mingyu and Wonwoo wake just in time to leave the train. Somewhere along the ride, Wonwoo had mentioned that his cousin, Seungcheol, was a local in the city and suggested that they rent a townhouse unit with airbnb, hooking them up with a place his friend owned. They make their way out of the train station and walk towards the designated address on Seungcheol’s message, the exhaustion from an eleven-hour train ride catching up to them the minute they make it inside the unit.

What shakes them awake however, is the single shared bed in the center of the bedroom, something Seungcheol nor his friend ever mentioned over the phone. They stand frozen in silence, not really knowing what to think. The thought had never crossed their minds having stayed in separate rooms during their stay at Glasgow.

“Well,” Wonwoo trails off, placing his hand at the back of his neck, “There isn’t much we can do now, You can take the bed if it makes you uncomfortable, Mingyu. I can just sleep on the couch outside.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine, Wonwoo, I’ll take the couch.”

“No, really.”

” _Really_ ,” Mingyu insists. “I can take it.”

Wonwoo looks at him for a moment, accepting defeat with a small smile on his face.

“Thanks.”

Minutes pass. Despite their agreed arrangement, they fall asleep on the shared bed while unpacking. Mingyu stays half-awake and is aware of the way Wonwoo shifts a little too close to fill the space between them, a habit of his that he discovers when he’s in deep sleep.

Then slowly, _slowly_ , Wonwoo starts to intertwine his fingers with his, the warmth of his hand enclosing his own sweaty palm.

Another habit, Mingyu thinks, one that creates a spark of electricity through his fingertips and through his bloodstream, somehow creeping its way to the nerves in his heart.

Seungcheol had a daytime canal tour planned for them today, so after sharing a loaf of bread for breakfast in the morning they hurriedly leave the townhouse to set out and meet Wonwoo’s cousin. Mingyu felt like he was walking inside a real life painting. The city is covered in crisp autumn leaves falling from the trees—proof of just how quickly the seasons change. They walk alongside the bike lanes where they witness people cycling and stroll down the narrow streets in search for the docks.  The temperature is fairly cold, and Mingyu only managed to wear one layer of clothing with a navy trench coat on top. He thinks he underestimated the weather too much.

When he tries to come up with possible ways of keeping himself warm, he only finds himself secretly longing for Wonwoo’s gloved hand, last night’s habits playing in his head. His own bare hands close into a fist, and a sudden warmth spreads on his cheeks like the tingle in the back of his neck and the strange somersaults in his stomach.

Wonwoo was oblivious to Mingyu’s heart speeding up, but he needs it to stop. He silently wonders if Wonwoo was aware of it, if he knew of his habits and the unfamiliar feelings it did to him.

He doesn’t realize that his question will soon be answered when Wonwoo suddenly speaks next to him.

“Were you able to sleep well last night?” Wonwoo asks. “I forgot to mention that I moved a lot when I sleep.”

Mingyu doesn’t look him in the eye when he answers, focusing on the road straight ahead.

“I did.” He lies. “I move a lot too.”

“I’m a heavy sleeper, so I wouldn’t be able to notice. I also forgot to warn you about some...habits I have. I tend to hold things with my hands when I’m asleep. Jisoo used to tell me that I would sleep like an otter—”

Mingyu witnesses how Wonwoo’s words fall short, realizing how it’s the first time he’d ever said a name, and how it was his own first time to hear it.

“Jisoo?” Mingyu repeats, then asks, “Was that his name?”  _ The person in your history? _

He sees the way Wonwoo’s face slightly falters when their eyes meet, a short moment of despair flashing in his.

“Yeah.”

Wonwoo quickly looks away, and that’s when the conversation ends. Mingyu doesn’t try to push him any further.

They spot one of the boats docked to the side along the canals loading passengers. Finding Seungcheol was easy at this point—a young man dressed in a beige coat with a scarf around his neck walks from the opposite side and waves excitedly, meeting them halfway.

He wasn’t alone. Another man approaches in the same exact coat with a mustard turtleneck underneath, catching up to Seungcheol and taking his hand in his while they fall into step together and share cheery glances.

Seungcheol pulls the pilot into a brotherly hug with a delighted sigh. “It’s so good to see you here, man.”

“You too.” Wonwoo returns a smile, introducing Mingyu with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “This is Mingyu. I’m trying to show him around the city.”

Seungcheol features are softer—deepset eyes and a complexion as fair as Wonwoo’s. He shakes Mingyu’s hand and nods with a grin something akin to awe, implying something he doesn’t understand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mingyu,” Seungcheol repeats. “Welcome to Amsterdam.”

Within fifteen minutes, they are seated in the glass-enclosed boat, Seungcheol and Jeonghan—his partner—side by side, while Wonwoo and Mingyu sit in front of them. Over the next hour, they traverse through all of Amsterdam’s waterways including _Prinsengracht_ , _Keizersgracht_ , _Herengracht_ and _Jordaan_ , as well as pass many of the city’s primary monuments and historic buildings with canal houses in between.

The sun shines above them in the breezy afternoon, with all of the city enjoying its beaming presence. Mingyu realizes that his eyes had seen Wonwoo’s smiling face too much that he thinks about how he looks almost similar to the sun, its rays peeking once again through the glass window and painting the paleness of his skin with a touch of gold.

Jeonghan mentions that the boat stops at a dock in Museumplein where the museums are located. Once they land, they begin their visit to the Rijkmuseum. The building’s architecture amazes Mingyu as its structure is separated into two squares, a tunnel as its central axis. They are welcomed inside the museum with minimalist interior and clean dark gray walls. From the display of paintings and artifacts, they discover a reading room with an extensive library of art history, wandering through the first floor and admiring people reading at the desks.

“I could practically live here,” Wonwoo quietly whispers to Mingyu, making him laugh but to which he believes.

Stepping inside the Van Gogh Museum is like stepping into a different kind of universe. The painter’s vibrant use of watercolor and his impulsive brush strokes on canvases are evident in his abstract works. People would say his talent was self-destructive, that his otherworldly paintings expressed most of his real and deep reflections.

He barely notices that Seungcheol and Jeonghan have already left his side and separated from him, his emotions overrunning his thoughts as he’s easily gripped by the paintings and self-portraits. He stops before one particular painting which presents a vase of sunflowers, similar to the real ones he’d seen outside the museum, and it instantly becomes his favorite.

Soon, Mingyu finds himself entering a dark narrow hallway leading to a walk through exhibit of Van Gogh’s famous paintings.

Then he sees Wonwoo, standing in the middle of the room with Van Gogh’s _Starry Night_ coming to life, projecting the walls and illuminating his body with light. He catches him laughing in amazement, nose scrunching while his eyes are filled with childlike wonder and enthusiasm.

There is something so lovely in things that are bright and beautiful. It is then that Mingyu realizes how Wonwoo’s smile is beginning to remind him of these things—of art and sunflowers.

And just like a painting, he can only stare at the masterpiece in front of him, his heart beating frantically in his chest too scared to touch him.

They meet the other pair outside the museum where they watch the couple take selfies close to the _iamsterdam_ letters and wait for them to finish, their stomachs already growling from hunger. Twenty minutes later, they eat lunch at a quaint restaurant and afterwards spend their afternoon peeking at tulips in the Bloemenmarkt.

The flower market is located in the Single Canal, floating on top of houseboats and barges, with stalls that display different sets of plants with a variety of colors. One of the vendors try to offer Mingyu tulip bulbs but he declines politely, knowing that he wouldn’t know how to bring it safely back home.

As soon as Wonwoo immerses himself in the beauty of the flowers surrounding him, Mingyu decides to steal some photos again.

He looks up from the camera to see Wonwoo a few feet away and a knowing smile crosses his face.

“It’s okay.” He offers.

Mingyu stares back at him confusedly. “What is?”

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo repeats, “Asking me for photos is not a big deal. I don’t mind.”

The thought of Mingyu being caught keeping photos of Wonwoo shuts him up quickly, giving the other the opportunity to take a photo of his baffled expression.

“Hey!” Mingyu yells. “I wasn’t ready!”

Mingyu wants to protest, but the glee on the pilot’s face stops him from doing so. Instead, he resigns to a defeated pout.

“It’s only fair,” Wonwoo smiles teasingly waving the phone in his hand. “Think of it as trading memories, me taking your best unguarded photos in exchange for the ones that you took.”

If the pilot were to keep memories of him, Mingyu hopes he doesn’t keep that one.

The minutes fly by and they call it a night after dinner at the Damrak, the couple waving them goodbye and promising to meet them again tomorrow. By the time Mingyu and Wonwoo get home, they become too tired to think of anything else and get enough rest to prepare themselves for the next day that lies ahead of them.

Only Mingyu makes sure to sleep on the couch this time.

He wasn’t expecting for the morning to come along with a sore on his back.

Mingyu cooks eggs on the kitchen of their townhouse unit while Wonwoo sits in front of the counter. He tries to keep a straight face, frying the eggs while waiting for the ache on his back to wear out. He sets the plate down on the counter in front of Wonwoo while he stands opposite of him, watching him poke the scrambled egg with a fork and take a biteful into his mouth after thanking him for breakfast.

“You can still take the bed if you wanted to,” Wonwoo chews, seeing right through him.

Mingyu grabs his own fork to slice a piece of egg from the same plate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to seem like I was complaining or anything like that.”

“If your back hurts, then it hurts,” Wonwoo says, crossing his arms with elbows propped on the table. “You shouldn’t be sorry for something like that. If you want, we can try sharing the bed again. It seems like neither of us has a problem with it anyway.”

Mingyu doesn’t tell Wonwoo, but he does have a problem with it. A big one. It’s the exact reason why he didn’t mention anything, knowing that it could possibly lead to this proposition.

“I’m not a baby,” Mingyu defends, slightly annoyed at how Wonwoo seems to treat him like a child and makes him look out to be someone who is incapable of doing anything.

“And I’m not treating you like one,” Wonwoo fires back, “It’s called compromise.”

He shoves a big piece of egg into his mouth. “I can handle it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Mingyu continues to chew his egg—mouth full and cheeks blown—when he catches Wonwoo staring at him, unabashed and something like playful endearment in his eyes.

“Although has anyone told you that you looked like one?”

Mingyu throws a piece of egg to his face. 

Seungcheol’s itinerary for the day includes exploring the markets at Amsterdam. They spend the morning wandering around the Jourdaan, one of the city’s most famous neighbourhoods. The amount of tourists surrounding the area is expected as they walk along the narrow paths and flower-lined canals.

It’s almost impossible to find their way in the maze-like streets, that sometimes Mingyu would find himself taking Wonwoo’s hand, pulling him close just so he won’t lose him in the crowd. The heavy flow of foot traffic makes it easier for Mingyu to hide the blush that suddenly warms his cheeks and the tips of his fingers, thinking how he’d managed to gain the confidence to do that. Meanwhile, Wonwoo doesn’t flinch.

They continue to pass the quaint shops and peek at the little art galleries before they spot a small restaurant, indulging themselves in Bitterballen, each paired with a pitcher of beer.

In the afternoon, they cross the Herengracht and Kiezersgracht canals, arriving at De Negen Straatjes. They take the whole afternoon and stroll down the cobbled streets, admiring the vintage boutiques and specialty shops with less people around compared to others.

Wonwoo and Jeonghan walk ahead of Mingyu, laughing together and taking photos of the thrift shops while Seungcheol watches next to him.

“Wonwoo looks really happy now,” Seungcheol speaks quietly. “He should visit more often.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Mingyu asks.

“A year ago,” he answers. “He was here around the same time, I think.”

“Wasn’t he happy then?”

Seungcheol glances at him, surprised by his question.

“Well, sure,” he ponders. “Look, don’t get me wrong, Mingyu. He must have been happy because I was there with him. but I also remember a time when I’ve seen him much happier, with Jisoo.”

Mingyu checks to see Wonwoo entering a vintage shop with Jeonghan trailing behind him, before finding the courage to ask Seungcheol another question, curiosity growing more and more.

“Do you know what happened to them?”

“You’re asking the wrong person,” Seungcheol tells him. “But as far as I know, no one does. He’s never told anyone.”

Mingyu feels a brief pang of guilt for trying to invade Wonwoo’s privacy like this.

“But it’s good now,” Seungcheol says meeting his eyes, “that he has you.”

Mingyu sees where this conversation is going, but whatever he and Wonwoo were doing wasn’t anything other than travelling the world.

“Oh, no. It’s not what you think. I’m just a friend from Seoul.” Mingyu denies.

“If you say so,” Seungcheol replies, exchanging a look with him, “I guess the real question is… If you want to stay that way?”

Just when Mingyu is about to answer, a kid in a Flash costume suddenly dashes right between them, running into the street with a plastic pumpkin basket in his hand.

Since this morning, Mingyu had seen other kids and people dressed in costumes—Once as they were leaving the unit and another time at Jordaan. He barely remembers how he’d seen too many pumpkins and spider web decorations.

“Hey, I almost forgot. If you and Wonwoo are interested, there’s a Halloween Parade assembling in Vondelpark later at eight. There’s music and costumes and everything. You guys can join us.”

“We’ll think about it.”

Wonwoo appears next to Mingyu, a small smile plastered on his face. There’s a hesitance in his posture, but there’s something in Wonwoo’s eyes that he can’t comprehend. Before Seungcheol can sway him, he tugs his arm and pulls him away, leading him inside the same vintage shop he had entered just moments ago.

“We don’t really need to go,” Wonwoo assures him, “Seungcheol tends to cross the line. There’ll be lots of people and I know you hate crowds plus the music will be loud and—”

Wonwoo keeps talking, but all noise is drowned out when the thought of him worrying about what Mingyu’s comfortable with makes his heart swell.

“I’m in.”

Mingyu’s words catch Wonwoo in surprise.

“I mean, only if you want to go.” Mingyu adds. “Otherwise, I won’t have a reason to go if you’re not there.”

Wonwoo’s shocked face melts into a softer expression—a smile so sincere, so genuine.

“I’m in too.”

They pass a section of old clothes when Mingyu spots a tiny dresser with full of things that look like makeup. He quickly picks a palette from the table, as if a lightbulb on his head had switched on.

“Since It’s too late to buy costumes, I have another idea.” Mingyu suggests.

He lightly dabs his finger on a palette to test, swirling it around while orange pigment sticks to his skin before he handing over the palette to Wonwoo.

“Why do I have a feeling I won’t like this idea of yours?” Wonwoo asks, taking it from Mingyu’s hand.

“Well, right now you won’t have a choice,” Mingyu says, “Because we are going to paint our faces for the parade.”

“Mingyu, you are not putting makeup on me.”

“You ask me to travel with you all the way to Paris but will say no to a little color on your face,” Mingyu comments, pulling out a stool from under the dresser so he could sit. “And I don’t have to do it for you. But if you can’t put it on yourself, you can always try it on me first.”

Wonwoo still has the palette in his hand, not really knowing what to do with it. He looks at Mingyu in contemplation one more time, then finally concedes, dipping a finger into the palette.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Wonwoo mumbles, before reaching over to touch his face. 

Wonwoo paints his cheeks with the orange tint Mingyu used, remembering to move his fingertip in a circular motion to both sides of his face. Overtime, Wonwoo begins to enjoy it. He gazes excitedly over the face paint, then pats his finger on a darker color and applies it to his nose.

Mingyu stays silent watching him all this time. He watches how Wonwoo’s face contorts from full concentration to childish excitement, how his eyes give Mingyu all the attention while his elegant fingers delicately touch his face, leaving more than just autumn colors on his skin.

He shades his eyebrows and colors his lips brown, then uses a black pencil eyeliner to draw the outline on his eyebrows, eyes, nose, and lips, finishing off with lines the look like stitches.

Wonwoo spins the stool around for Mingyu to stare at his reflection.

“Congratulations,” Wonwoo tells him, “I’ve just turned you into a scarecrow.”

Mingyu is impressed with the end result, turning to Wonwoo and giving him an approving smile.

“See, what did I tell you?” Mingyu says.

Wonwoo has his hands clasped together, mirroring the same excitement in his eyes. “You’re right. It’s not that bad.”

They switch positions—Wonwoo seated in front of the dresser and Mingyu standing in front of him. He looks up at him expectantly while Mingyu returns a confused look.

“You want me to paint you?” Mingyu asks.

Wonwoo closes his eyes, giving him a smile and a nod. “I trust you, Mingyu.”

Mingyu doesn’t know why his words make his heart speed up, but it makes him genuinely happy.

He picks up the eyeliner and takes one step forward, leaning down until he reaches Wonwoo’s face level and presses it lightly to his face.

If there was anything Mingyu hasn’t told Wonwoo, it’s how he learned how to paint since he was ten. Like an empty canvas, he expertly traces lines from the middle part of Wonwoo’s forehead to the bridge of his nose, drawing more lines over his lips then connecting them to the outlines he’d created on his face.

He draws on Wonwoo’s face for a good five minutes, then turns the stool to face the mirror, asking Wonwoo to open his eyes.

Wonwoo obeys, looking at his reflection with something between shock and astonishment quickly written on his face.

Half of Wonwoo’s face is left untouched, while the other half is composed of thick lines that trace from his nose to his lips, going up from the side of his jaw and all the way to his forehead, forming small geometric shapes and tiny lines decorating the bottom of his eye. The lack of color makes the drawing standout, creating something almost similar to an abstract painting.

“Mingyu.”

“I know, I could have done better,” Mingyu shrugs, still leaning down with his face next to Wonwoo’s, shooting him a small casual smile through the mirror. “I really didn’t know what came over me.”

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo calls, his tone demanding him to listen. “It’s perfect.”

He turns his head to the side just as Wonwoo does, eyes meeting and faces only inches away from each other.

Mingyu notices everything about Wonwoo, like the small strand of eyelash that stuck below his eye, the slope of his nose and the way his lips are slightly chapped. He stares into his eyes and faces an inner battle between listening to what his brain needs him to do and doing what his heart wants him to do.

But Wonwoo moves first—pulling him close and welcoming him in his arms and circling around his neck. Mingyu stands frozen, legs bent and body tilted forward at a weird angle with both hands glued to his sides.

Wonwoo is warm and _so so close_ , unexpected like the weather and Mingyu’s heart that races faster and faster, fearing that it would explode any moment from now.

The fleeting moment comes and leaves when Wonwoo pulls away to look back into his face with a wide smile, a smile so bright that he can paint the whole town yellow.

Dusk arrives as soon as they find themselves passing through the Red Light District—Seungcheol and Jeonghan having already disappeared from their sights to prepare for the parade—while a range of tourists walk alongside them. They pass a repetition of restaurants and other shops with neon signages flashing at them as they wander through the night street. Walking through the area, Mingyu notices couples holding hands and even families walking down the canals. he had already seen most of what Amsterdam has to offer, and he didn’t want to pass up on this chance of seeing the district at least once. The atmosphere is intriguing. He can’t put his finger on it, but there’s an undeniable buzz lingering in the air that would best be described as something unspoken, one full of suspense and in the strangest way, a little bit of erotic.

Mingyu grows even more curious when he peers through the floor to ceiling doors, red lights framing the glass windows. There are women of all colors and sizes inside the windows, piquing their interests and greeting them as they pass.

“Want to visit a coffee shop?” Wonwoo asks next to him.

“I didn’t know they sold coffee in this place.” Mingyu comments.

Wonwoo tries to contain his laughter and keeps an admirable smile on his face. “Sure, that is if we’re talking about the same one.”

He still doesn’t catch on, until they step inside a dimly lit establishment and sit in front of a table with a cylindrical glass pipe between them. He realizes that in Amsterdam, coffee didn’t exactly mean beans that grew from farms. Wonwoo calls out a waiter and exchanges a few words with him. Mingyu can’t hear him well from the loud reggae music blasting through the speakers, but he catches hearing something along the lines of “Joints” and something “Pre-rolled”.

The waiter leaves and comes back with a small plate of two blunts, hollowed and filled with marijuana.

Mingyu watches Wonwoo take one and files it between his long, deft fingers. He asks the waiter to light the blunt, waiting for its end to finally flare up before letting out a drag just as the waiter begins to walk away. 

Thick smoke whizzes through the air and Mingyu already smells the earthy herb. He’s not sure if he wants to try it.

Wonwoo makes a face at him, head facing sideways as he blows smoke through his mouth. Mingyu continues to watch in wonder and curiosity, noticing how the weed slowly takes effect on Wonwoo’s body. His eyes have turned lazy, staring at him with a sleazy smile on his face.

It’s amusing, but Mingyu feels guilty for letting him indulge on something like this alone. Wonwoo brought Mingyu here for a reason, and although he knew Wonwoo wouldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to do, he would want him to live in these moments, to experience these acts of impulse and bad decisions.

Mingyu takes the other blunt from the plate, trying to arrange it between his fingers just like how he remembers Wonwoo doing it. He looks at Wonwoo who is already calling the waiter and borrowing a lighter again. When the waiter walks away, he urges Mingyu to move closer to light the blunt.

Mingyu leans in, his shaky fingers raised close to his mouth with the joint stuck in between. Wonwoo holds his hand to keep it still, lighting the end of the stick and silently watching the fire flicker momentarily.

Mingyu doesn’t know if what he’s doing is correct but he inhales all too fast, taking too much of the smoke into his lungs with an unpreparedness that causes him to choke on his breath, coughing instantly as puffs of smoke escape his mouth. Wonwoo rubs his back soothingly as Mingyu settles down with a burning sensation left on his throat and a bitter taste on his tongue.

Moments later, Mingyu feels the hit—the music grows loud and clear in his ears along with other people’s bickering, while the pungent smell of weed turns stronger. He’s overwhelmed by the intensity of his senses heightened, with Wonwoo’s touches making him feel more light-headed than usual.

Mingyu suddenly laughs. He laughs and laughs over nothing while Wonwoo joins him.

“This is insane,” Mingyu tells him.

“And you, maybe even more so. I can’t believe you did that. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you so relaxed.”

“I haven’t had a good laugh in a while, maybe since my entire life,” Mingyu says truthfully. “This feels really, really good.”

“The weed helps,” Wonwoo comments. “We all we need a little escape from life once in a while.”

He has an elbow on top of the table with his free hand cupping his doodled face, blowing smoke from the blunt to the side while his eyes are beguiling, almost adoringly staring into his own.

“Why are looking at me like that?” Mingyu asks.

Wonwoo balances the joint between two fingers and shakes his head, smiling.

“Nothing,” he says. “It’s just.. I wonder where you came from.”

Mingyu looks confusedly at him.

“I’ll take it as the plant talking.” Mingyu jokes, “You’re saying weird things right now.”

Wonwoo laughs softly. “I know what I’m saying. I think you know what I mean.”

“But I don’t. Not really,” Mingyu replies. “Would you mind elaborating it for me?”

“What I mean is,” Wonwoo says, “Sometimes, I wonder how the universe conspired in leading you to me. I’m still trying to believe how someone like you had come into my life like this.”

“Like what, Wonwoo?” Mingyu asks, more serious this time.

“I don’t know,” he answers with an uncertainty in his voice, but continues on to say, “Just like this. Like this place could be beautiful again.”

Mingyu’s eyes grow wide hearing what he’d just said, heart racing from his chest.

He remembers Wonwoo on the way to Amsterdam, sleeping on the train and reading a book just so he could drift apart from this world. Being inside the coffee shop almost feels the same, except when Mingyu was with Wonwoo, he couldn’t tell the difference between the reality and escaping to a world of his own.

The parade had already begun once they arrive at Vondelpark, witnessing a showcase of people in a variety of halloween costumes with huge floats and inflatable puppets roaming around the area. They spot Seungcheol and Jeonghan walking along the parade, laughing hysterically at their monkey and giraffe onesies as they join them while the other pair passes them red paper cups filled with booze.

Time quickly permeates, while moments of walking, drinking, and dancing all but pass into a state of drunken bliss.

It’s eleven in the evening when locals start to pack up and leave the park, walking away giddily and intoxicated. Seungcheol is throwing Jeonghan’s arm over his shoulder and apologizing profusely for the latter, yelling drunkenly at the top of his lungs for no reason. He collects his partner’s body and carries him in his arms before saying goodbye.

Mingyu and Wonwoo chase each other down an empty street, slowing their steps when they makes it to the middle of the road, trying hard not to fall.

The buzz from their lingering highs are twice as strong as the time they drank in Scotland. Mingyu can still hear the music in his ears, spinning around in a sloppy twirl as he dances underneath the moonlight with eyes closed. He tries to hum a melody in the air, and when he opens his eyes he finds Wonwoo watching him with a lazy grin on his tired face.

The alcohol makes Mingyu courageous, lifting a finger up and gesturing for Wonwoo to dance along with him. He chuckles heartily and steps forward, draping his arms over his shoulders while Mingyu braces his arms around his waist.

Together they sway in the silence, staring at each other as if nothing else mattered in this moment, trapped in their own little escape.

It’s when their bodies unknowingly move closer does Mingyu realize that he’s bordering uncharted territory. 

Wonwoo’s eyes are dark, filled with something indescribable when he looks up at him.

“You look absolutely ridiculous right now,” he teases playfully. If half of Wonwoo’s drawn face had already melted from the stickiness of the paint, Mingyu can only imagine the damage on his own face.

“Well, I can’t disagree with you on that,” Mingyu answers with a soft laugh. “I’m a complete mess.”

A sheen of sweat drips from his forehead all the way down to his jaw with Wonwoo lightly brushing it away. His hand stays where it is, tracing the line in his jaw to slowly cup his face.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo says, almost in a whisper, “Yeah, me too.”

Mingyu is even more of a mess now, his heart pounding in his chest from the proximity of their faces and the eyes that bore into his own. They’re alone on the dark street and he’s terrified.

Mingyu looks down, down, down on his lips and he can’t breathe. He tries to hide his panic but his hands find its way to his shirt, clutching too tightly and wishing he can run away.

And just as they lean forward, headlights suddenly flash over their faces.

Mingyu releases the air he didn’t realize he’d been keeping while Wonwoo backs away. His eyes don’t give anything away, but he quietly takes his hand, leading him to the taxi and following him inside.

It’s silent once inside. Mingyu’s mind is hazy and clouded with wrongful judgement, but because of what had happened just moments ago, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, Wonwoo wanted something to happen.

Mingyu realizes that a lot of things have changed since meeting Wonwoo, since learning his history and since he got high. Maybe he wanted the same thing just as much.

Then Mingyu is suddenly brave again, closing the gap between them and leaning over Wonwoo’s painted face.

Mingyu has never felt desire for anything or anyone, until his lips finally crash into his.

P A R I S , F R A N C E

Mingyu wakes up with his face planted into a pillow.

He’s hit with the sudden urge to puke, so he gets on his feet and instantly runs for the bathroom. His hands and knees collapse on the tiled floor as he vomits on the toilet bowl, spilling his guts while his unruly hair sticks on the top of his forehead. He groans from the smell and how it reeks, a feeling of nausea flowing easily through his system.

He leans his head on the clean side of the bowl, trying to fully take in his surroundings.

And then he remembers.

Mingyu rises, taking slow steps back to the bedroom. Goosebumps run along his arms and sends chills to his bare skin, then notices how he’s only dressed in his boxer briefs. He picks up a discarded sweater off the floor and wears the cotton fabric over his head, taking a seat on the chair in front of a small table and burying his face in his hands, head spinning.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He wasn’t supposed to wake up on this part of the room, particularly on top of the bed. He wasn’t supposed to be sleeping there. He wasn’t even supposed to kiss him.

But all these things have already happened, with one thing leading to another, and Mingyu doesn’t quite know how to deal with it.

He finally notices Wonwoo not being there, but finds a note perched on the table next to a bottle of water.

_Went out for a bit. I should be back by the time you wake up_ , it reads.

Mingyu shakes his head and tries to wipe out everything from his mind, thinking this must all just be a dream, but it only makes his head even more dizzy.

Maybe coffee is what Mingyu needs.

But just as he hurries out of the bedroom, the door of the main room opens.

Wonwoo’s eyes quickly find Mingyu’s as soon as he steps inside. His footsteps are slow and deliberate. Cautious.

“Hi,” Wonwoo simply greets. The makeup on his face is no longer present, memories of last night washed away.

Mingyu’s chest tightens. He remains rigid in his place, and all his body parts can’t seem to function.

“Hi,” Mingyu utters, eyes focused on the suddenly interesting ground, on his feet, and on his wobbly knees up to his—

To his legs.

When Mingyu looks up, Wonwoo’s looking at him with an unreadable expression, specifically at the sweater that drapes just inches above his thighs, the piece of clothing which he soon realizes doesn’t belong to him.

“Uh,” Mingyu starts to explain, but Wonwoo promptly waves him off with a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” Wonwoo tells him, lifting another hand that carries a paper bag and places it on the kitchen counter. “I bought some aspirin for the headache. And some fruits.”

Wonwoo is suddenly making his way towards Mingyu, stopping just inches away from his face.

Mingyu’s head reels, his blood running hot in his veins. He thinks he’s about to puke again. The air is thick, heavy with a tension he can’t explain.

And Mingyu waits, although he doesn’t exactly know what it is that he’s waiting for. Maybe it was to establish things, to confirm just what exactly it is they are doing.

But Wonwoo is looking at him differently, different from how he’d looked at him last night. It’s a look that’s friendly, the thrill and the desire no longer there but replaced with a hint of nervousness and hesitation. Maybe even confusion.

“I, uhm,” Wonwoo says, “I’m going to get ready.”

Wonwoo walks away to retreat into the bedroom. The door closes, leaving Mingyu with so many questions and so much want, wondering if he’d already ruined things before they even began.

_Attention passengers, Train 0504 to Paris is now approaching. Please make your way to Platform Two. Do not leave your luggage unattended._

A three note-chime sounds on the loudspeaker as the huge train approaches the station. They are already there, saying their goodbyes with Seungcheol and Jeonghan about to send them off. Jeonghan brings Mingyu into a tight hug and squeezes him in his arms, while Seugcheol gives Wonwoo a pat on the back, asking him to take care.

“It was so lovely to meet you, Mingyu,” Jeonghan says with a sweet smile on his face. “I hope you come back soon.”

“It was nice to meet you too,” Mingyu says, glancing at Seungcheol who is looking back at him thoughtfully with unspoken words.

They climb on the train and stow their bags. Mingyu looks out the glass window to see Jeonghan and Seungcheol waving at them, smiling at them one more time before the train departs.

He leans back against the seat, recalling the memories they’ve created in Amsterdam.

Wonwoo is also staring out the window, his eyes expressionless but tranquil. Mingyu wonders about the things running through his head right now—if he was thinking about the same things in his own head like when his lips actually tasted like beer and a little bit like an antidote, or how he had traced the tiny moles on his back, those moles he wished he was the only person who saw them.

On their way to Paris, Mingyu starts to silently question his existence in Wonwoo’s life. He starts to think about his own purpose being in front of him on this train, because right now he is looking at him, and he realizes there are things that didn’t feel as important and uncertain as what he feels when he is with him.

When Mingyu thinks about Seungcheol’s question, it scares him, because how is it possible to be friends with Wonwoo wanting to kiss him all the time?

And now, he had given him parts of him without knowing if he wanted it.

Mingyu speaks over the quiet. “I think I owe you an apology, Wonwoo. About what happened last night.”

Wonwoo’s head turns slowly to look at him.

“We were having a really good time and I was really drunk, but I remember every single thing. I remember kissing you and it leading to other things. I think about it, how crazy and stupid I was, and now I think I’m really messing things up.”

Mingyu stares apprehensively at him, pondering about more things he wanted to apologize for but is interrupted by the sound of the pilot’s calm voice.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Saying sorry for things you shouldn’t apologize for.”

Mingyu suddenly can’t breathe.

“Wonwoo,” He tries to say, “I—“

“Can I ask you something?” Wonwoo asks, eyes brooding. “If you were given different circumstances, do you think you would have done something in your life because you just felt like it? Just because you wanted to?”

Mingyu is beyond unprepared. He doesn’t know how to answer him without scaring him, without scaring himself.

“What if…” murmurs Mingyu, “What if I said that in that moment, you were all that I wanted?”

There’s a frantic stirring in his gut and a flicker of something in the pilot’s eyes, his heart beating quick in his chest.

And then Wonwoo smiles all of a sudden, he smiles so bright and does that nose scrunch again, that Mingyu might have seen more than just the sun, but even stars.

“Then maybe we need to spend more time living, wanting each moment without any regrets.” Wonwoo tells him. “Mingyu, as soon as we make it to Paris, I want us to stop controlling things and feel as unapologetic about our feelings as possible. I need you to promise me that.”

Mingyu remembers what Soonyoung had told him in his balcony days before he left for Glasgow, before all of this ever happened. And this morning, he remembers getting a text message from his neighbour, hearing about how they’d made it to Amsterdam and was now leaving with Wonwoo for Paris.

_Please tell me you’re keeping your word_ , Soonyoung had sent.

He still hasn’t replied to it, maybe because he was already too late.

“I’m not sure if I can keep any more promises,” Mingyu mutters lowly. “I might have already broken some of them.”

Wonwoo looks at him with a face full of wonder.

“What other promises have you broken?”

Moments quickly flash in Mingyu’s eyes: Wonwoo’s laugh. The warmth of his hand on the shared bed, and the way his feelings are starting to resemble autumn leaves, inevitably descending from the trees.

“Only the most important,” Mingyu says quietly. Promising not to fall.

Mingyu wakes with a strain on his neck. He opens his eyes, fully aware that he’d fallen asleep leaning his head on the glass window. He doesn’t know what time it is or how many hours they have left inside the train, but out of all these things, he first notices how Wonwoo’s seat is empty.

Mingyu is about to panic when he realizes that a heavy weight is pressing down on his lap.

He looks to find that the pilot had transferred close to him, sleeping with his backpack as a makeshift pillow resting on top of him.

Wonwoo is so gentle, so peaceful in his sleep of escape. His skin is glowing again as it shines against the natural sunlight. Mingyu notices his open palm and fingers curled, as if he was holding something invisible.

His hand is warm when he reaches for him, connecting his hand to the tiny gaps of his fingers.

Mingyu stares out the window, Wonwoo’s hand interlaced with his own, watching as the world goes by. He can already see the eiffel tower from afar—an indication that they were close. The idea of seeing Paris had always been exciting to him, except now there’s a sad smile dawning on his face and a fear rising in in his heart.

As soon as they approach Paris, Mingyu wonders if the things that were happening between them are the things that happened too soon or too late, whether this could be the start of a new beginning or the beginning of the ending.

Mingyu looks at their hands, and thinks about how they are unbelievably beautiful—how they quickly hold on to things and how sometimes they slowly let go. He wonders if one of them would be a choice he would soon have to make.

People are shuffling and pushing inside the train station, the wheels of suitcases crashing into their ankles as they find their way out of Gare Du Nord and towards the taxi queue. When they finally reach the front of the queue, Mingyu watches Wonwoo greet the taxi driver in French, staring at him in amazement.

“ _Montmartre, s’il vous plait_ ,” Wonwoo says, the words flowing out from his mouth so fluently that Mingyu can’t help but smile at him in adoration as they sit back in the seat and the driver pulls into the traffic.

_Paris_ , Mingyu thinks as he winds down the window, _is finally here_.

Mingyu takes in the sound of the busy streets inside the taxi. He catches a whiff of fresh bread and heavy smoke from outside as the wind swiftly blows in his hair. The taxi drives further into the city, cafe’s situated at every corner and people dressed stylishly, greeting each other and exchanging kisses on both sides of their cheeks. He continues to gaze out the window in awe, sometimes even trying to read the french road signs when they come across them repeatedly.

Wonwoo provides an address to the taxi driver, and soon after they are suddenly ascending uphill and pulling over along a street near a cafe’. The driver takes the money and quickly drives away, leaving them on the pavement in front of _La Maison Rose_ , a lone coffee place with pastel pink walls that stood out in the middle of other parisian cream colored houses.

Mingyu follows Wonwoo inside one of them—a house with half of its walls covered in ivy. The house shows nothing of luxury and looks like any other house, with clean white interior and comfortable furniture. He watches Wonwoo move briskly around the house, and he wonders how he walks around like he’d been here before, as if this was his own—

Suddenly, clarity hits him like a bucket of cool water splashed on his face.

Mingyu leaves his suitcase next to the couch and walks towards the fireplace, a set of photo frames standing atop and instantly catching his eyes. One of the frames contain a photo where Wonwoo is dressed in his pilot’s uniform and sitting inside a plane’s cockpit. His hair had been longer, and he was giving the camera a thumbs up. Another photo is Wonwoo on top of a mountain nearing the edge. He thinks the view looks similar to the one they saw at Sunrise Peak.

Between those photos is a photo of a young man in front of the Botanical Gardens in Scotland, head turned away from the camera. His hand is reaching for the hand that belonged to the person behind the camera, as if he were leading him towards their destination.

The hairs on the back of Mingyu’s neck stand along with his heartbeat speeding up.

He turns around and sees Wonwoo already next to him, gently folding the photo frame down with that particular photo.

Mingyu is about to speak when Wonwoo beats him to it.

“The guest room is upstairs on the left,” Wonwoo says. “Do you need help with your bag?”

He talks to him so formally, as if he’d forgotten that they weren’t on the same train together for three hours and Mingyu just hadn’t revealed that he was falling for him.

“I’ve got it. Thanks.” Mingyu tells him, avoiding his eyes and walking away to pick up his luggage. He carries it with him as he walks up the stairs, but stops when he hears Wonwoo call for him.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says, offering a soft smile. “This probably isn’t what you expected, but I’d really like it if you would… feel at home. Okay?”

Mingyu can only return another smile before hurriedly ascending up the stairs and closing the door to the room, not knowing why he feels less like a guest and more like a trespasser that had stepped inside Wonwoo’s history and had stolen a little piece of someone else’s life.

Mingyu uses the next ten minutes to change into new clothes and to freshen up, while another twenty minutes is spent lying on the bed with a heavy feeling in his chest. It was a feeling he can’t put his finger on, and it makes him wonder if he had even made the right decision to be here.

But he had travelled with Wonwoo all the way to Paris, and even if he couldn’t make sense of things right now, it doesn’t mean that he needed it to.

He leaves the room and walks down the stairs to meet Wonwoo below in his set of changed clothes—a white turtleneck hugs his slender body and is topped with a black leather jacket, faded denim skinny jeans and black leather dress shoes to match.

Wonwoo was a stunning host, and Mingyu feels all the more like a guest in his household and so out of his league.

“Ready?” Wonwoo asks, smiling and offering his hand.

Mingyu’s heart accelerates in such a ridiculous speed, because he’s never seen someone so pleased to see him. He takes it as a soft laugh escapes him. Mingyu was never ready—for Wonwoo or for Paris—yet something inside of him tells him maybe he had always been a little ready for his heart to get lost in the thrill of uncertainty.

“Take me to Paris,” Mingyu says with a smile.

Mingyu’s arm tightens around Wonwoo’s waist, his excited screams muffled through his helmet as the pilot’s vespa whizzes hurriedly off into the afternoon and along the parisian streets. Wonwoo takes Mingyu to different Paris sights all at once: from _Sacré-Cœur_ , they ride nonstop through pathways and backstreets heading toward the _Louvre_. Mingyu’s heart beats quick over the loud engine as they pass along _Pont de la Concorde_ and take a left on _Quai des Tuileries_ , weaving through cars and driving around Paris. They speed over another bridge and pass the cathedral of _Notre Dame_ , then slow down into a path and finally pull over near a motorcycle sign.

Mingyu pulls off his helmet, hair unruly and out of breath as he recovers from the bike ride. He thinks he’s starting to feel lightheaded from all the adrenaline rush.

But the Eiffel Tower stands a few meters above them, soaring with a great finesse and truly reminiscent of Mingyu’s first visit. Paris is indeed beautiful, Mingyu thinks, loosening his hold on Wonwoo’s waist and slumping against his back with a deep sigh of astonishment.

Wonwoo laughs as he pulls off his own helmet and turns back to look at Mingyu, resting a hand on his trembling knee.

“The queue is probably still long by this time,” Wonwoo tells him, “Should we go back some other time?”

Mingyu hums excitedly as he quickly sits in position, already wearing the helmet over his face.

“Again!” Mingyu squeals, jumping in his seat with legs kicking back on the motor.

Wonwoo chuckles and starts the engine again as Mingyu wraps his arms around him, screeching in delight as soon as they drive back to Montmartre.

They park somewhere close to the Abbesses metro station, and from there they start to walk, with Wonwoo leading him around the corner of the station and into a tiny garden. In the center of the garden is a flat surface, covered in a wall of tiles with broken heart pieces scattered and words written on each space. Mingyu looks closer, reading as much as he can but not quite understanding most of them.

“They call this _Le mur des je t’aime_ ,” Wonwoo informs him, ”Basically, all the words mean the exact same thing.”

Mingyu thinks there must be around two hundred different languages written, only recognizing the three words in korean, english and even in french when he sees them— _je t'aime_.

Those three words, Mingyu thinks to himself. _What do they really mean?_

He’d witnessed love so many times, like how Seungcheol and Jeonghan sat next to each other on the canal boat in Amsterdam, arms linking together and sharing looks with warm affection in their eyes. Like Jihoon whispering into Soonyoung’s ear over loud laughter at the bonfire in Jeju.

It’s quite ironic how Mingyu, standing before the Wall of Love inside the City of Romance, has seen many different loves except his own, not knowing what it felt like or what it meant to him.

But standing next to him is also Wonwoo and his gentle catlike smile, slowly bringing meaning into the word and into his life. And then he realizes that maybe love meant being comfortable in their silence, being comfortable in saying things he can never tell anyone else. Maybe love was between two isolated souls, brought together in a strange city like this. Maybe love was crossing rivers and flying skies to get here.

And maybe, Mingyu thinks as Wonwoo takes closer steps—inches away from the offbeat of his heart—he thinks that maybe love was being horribly straightforward.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Mingyu says all in one breath, the words racing out of his lips like the thought of loving and losing him and both altogether terrified him. As if he had been longing to say them from the first time they met, from the moment the pilot smiled at him at the airport.

Wonwoo brushes a few of strands of hair away from Mingyu’s face and tucks them in his ear, before bringing his hand to his cheek, swiping the surface of his soft skin with his thumb.

He’s glowing, and Mingyu starts to notice that he can see his reflection through his dark brown irises.

“I think,” Wonwoo says in almost a whisper, his face leaning close until Mingyu can stare at his lips, speaking just before they seal the gap left between them, soaring, “That maybe some promises are made to be broken.”

And so on the next day they go wherever Paris takes them—they take on the museums, parks, and the monuments, driving freely through the parisian roads in Wonwoo’s red vespa and stealing kisses in every beautiful place. In the span of two days, they collect memories along the _Champs-Elysees_ and beneath _Arc de Triomphe_ , taste every flavor of the macarons at _Laduree_ , try ice skating at _Hotel de Ville_. They sit in the corner of a bookstore, reading poems and stories together before they’re kissing again, hands wandering around their bodies, discovering parts of them and unraveling their mysteries.

By the late afternoon, they are in the ninth arrondissement finding their way up a large department store. As soon as they reach the terrace, they are rewarded with the most exquisite of views: a golden view of the sun setting by the horizon and illuminating the parisian rooftops, with Sacre-Coeur sitting atop Montmartre on one side and the Eiffel tower standing beautifully on the other.

Mingyu thinks that some days are about falling in love with cities like Paris, and the way it glows above the sunset. Some days are about falling in love with things like art, like paintings on the wall or fairy lights dancing in the night sky.

These days are about falling in love with people, falling in love with Wonwoo who is casually leaning his arms over the ledge, smiling and holding the universe together.

Mingyu couldn’t understand the way he loved him, as if it was the most natural thing to do. It was so, so easy to love Wonwoo when he’s touched parts of him other than his body. More importantly, he’s touched his soul, something he didn’t think anyone would know how to love.

And yet, Mingyu still thinks this is a dream, almost something that’s too good to be true. Their connection is extraordinary and everything is happening so fast that his heart is still trying to catch up to his feelings. Once in a while he would still see Wonwoo with that look in his eyes, like he was locked up in this little world of his.

Mingyu was still uncertain about most things—when they would leave Paris and where they would go from there. But right now, as Wonwoo looks back at him with the loveliest of smiles, Mingyu thinks it’s enough to live in a dream like this.

It’s a little after eight in the evening when they travel to the heart of Pigalle. They step inside _Le Carmen_ , a cocktail bar set inside a mansion with high painted ceilings and cozy furniture, its unparalleled structure decorated with neo classical columns and statues as glittered chandeliers create a dimly lit setting inside the room. They take a seat in one of the red velvet sofas and observe couples inside their apartment-like rooms. Wonwoo would whisper in Mingyu’s ear and make up potential conversations the couples are having, and he would laugh so hard without other people hearing.

Wonwoo greets one of the bartenders from afar, waving at him as if they’ve known each other a long time and he hasn’t seen him in a while. He doesn’t mention who it is, but they continue to enjoy their glasses of wine, with Wonwoo’s hand over his knee and Mingyu feeling slightly woozy from both the wine and the pilot. Jazz music had been playing since they entered the room, but suddenly fades out when a small group of three make their way to the center. Two of them are holding a guitar and a saxophone while another sits behind the piano that was already there. A man dressed in a white suit arrives to the stage, smiling politely at the crowd in the dim light.

They enjoy a twenty-minute set of live jazz songs, filtering the air with sounds of the saxophone and piano along with the guitar and the singer’s bluesy voice. No words have been exchanged since then, just brief smiles and present touches as they listen to the music.

The singer starts to speak in french, with waiters passing small baskets around.

“They’re asking for song requests,” Wonwoo tells Mingyu.

As soon as a basket is passed at their direction, Mingyu takes a piece of tissue and picks the pen up from the basket, quickly thinking of a song from the top of his head, then writing it down on the tissue before he hands it back to the waiter.

Wonwoo leans back against the sofa and wraps an arm around Mingyu shoulder as he asks, “What song did you request?”

“You’ll see,” Mingyu smiles. “It’s the first song that came to mind.”

Just then, a familiar tune starts to play. It was one that Mingyu had always associated to his travels, one that he’d frequently listen to on his ipod more often than his other songs, and hearing the singer’s voice makes him sing along to the words.

_ Wise men say only fools rush in, _

_ But I can’t help falling in love with you _

The song continues into the bridge when Mingyu notices Wonwoo’s face, his eyes looking suddenly detached.

“Wonwoo?” Mingyu asks over the music, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Wonwoo answers briefly meeting his eyes. He wears the most stoic expression, and it frustrates Mingyu how he can’t get a read on him. “Let’s go. I don’t want to hear this anymore.”

Mingyu only blinks at him. “But the song—”

“Stay here, then,” Wonwoo tells him, pulling away and standing up to leave. “Just follow right after.”

Wonwoo quietly slips away, making his way out of the bar and Mingyu left with no choice but to trail after him.

Mingyu doesn’t remember the night outside being this cold. His hands find their way into the pockets of his winter coat as he walks along the street while cars pass them by. He blows air out of his breath and rubs his hands over both of his arms to create friction. It’s cold, and he wonders if he was the only one who felt it. Wonwoo walks sternly a few feet ahead of him, his hands curled tight into a fist.

Mingyu didn’t know what happened to Wonwoo at the bar and how it lead to a quick and unexpected turn of events. His outburst was something he didn’t see coming, but then he realizes that Wonwoo had always been unpredictable. It bothers him how until this point there were things he still didn’t know about him the same way he knew most things about himself. He was like a book sometimes, and his back was like a spine that carried more stories than he told. And just like a book, there was a chapter he didn’t read out loud, one that Mingyu needed to know.

He catches up to Wonwoo, slowing down his pace as soon as he matches the pilot’s steps.

“Please talk to me,” Mingyu says. “What happened back there, Wonwoo?”

“Nothing.” He replies in a curt voice, eyes staring ahead into the path.

“It didn’t seem that way at the bar. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be running away.”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer. He tries to avoid him and speeds up, but the other suddenly blocks his way and brings his hands to his arms, halting him.

“Just talk to me. Please. I want to help you as much as you helped me.” He pleads.

“You don’t need to return the favor,” Wonwoo says bitterly. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“Wonwoo—“

“Was it you?” He accuses, staring at him with eyes that start to glisten. “You chose that song, didn’t you?”

Mingyu’s hands slip from his arms, returning to the inside of his pockets. He doesn’t know what else he could say other than the truth.

“Yes,” Mingyu answers softly, so soft but enough for him to hear.

And then Wonwoo is laughing. His laugh is so empty and so sad, and his eyes brim with sudden tears.

“Of course it’s you,” He says, shakily. “What a fucking coincidence.”

The air is cold and Mingyu is freezing.

This wasn't Wonwoo, Mingyu thinks. This wasn't the way he talked, or the way he looked at him like he was made of stone. But maybe this is who Wonwoo really is, his outer layers slowly coming off and his history revealing itself before him.

“Tell me about him, Wonwoo,” Mingyu says quietly, “Please.”

He pauses for a moment, silent, except for the cars that still pass them by.

“I thought I saw him,” Wonwoo tells him, “At the bar. Mingyu, I thought he was singing that same song he sang when I first met him.”

Mingyu’s stomach flips, and he thinks he’s going to be sick. The look on Wonwoo’s face is distant, and he tries to pull him back to this world afraid that he would lose him.

“But it wasn’t, Wonwoo. How long has it been since he left? You have to realize that he might not come back.”

The shocks registers on Wonwoo’s face because of his words. He looks at him now, eyes instantly wide with anger.

“Does it even matter?” Wonwoo raises his voice, “You can’t… God, Mingyu. There are parts of history you can’t throw away no matter how long it’s been…You don’t understand. You weren’t there when he walked away. You weren’t there when I loved him.”

“But I’m here now!” He snaps. ”He left you, Wonwoo Don’t think that I can’t see the way you look at me sometimes—how your eyes are looking at me but are lost, somewhere else where I can’t follow. It drives me crazy how much I think you’re so close and so far away at the same time. He’s a ghost, Wonwoo, but I’m right in front of you, loving you just the same. Maybe even more.”

Mingyu doesn’t realize he’s crying, tears suddenly falling from his eyes.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore, Wonwoo,” His voice starts to shake. “What exactly am I to you? An escape route? A backup plan? His replacement?”

The air is so cold, but the anger in their veins and in their words are burning the world they created together.

Wonwoo’s face darkens, jaw clenching.

“One thing you should know,” Wonwoo says in finality, “is that you can never replace him. You’ll never be him.”

Mingyu is struck with a hard blow, eyes showing both surprise and desolate realization. There is nothing else left for him to say. Wonwoo shoves past Mingyu, walking solemnly to a taxi cab parked in the side of the street while the latter watches him, wishing he’d offer to still share a ride with him.

But as Wonwoo drives away and the taxi light turns red, Mingyu wishes he’d taken it as a warning sign, from when he first hopped inside his cab.

Mingyu is thankful that Wonwoo still kept the door unlocked for him to enter the house. His eyes are dry from his tears and his body tires from the long cab ride. He doesn’t bother switching on the lights but silently makes his way up the flight of stairs instead, steps heavy like the weight of his chest. As soon as he makes it to the top, he sneaks a glance at Wonwoo’s bedroom door and notices how it’s left slightly open.

He takes tentative steps in front of it, thinking twice if he should go in to check on Wonwoo. He gently pushes the door forward so it doesn’t make a sound. The room is dark, but he can see Wonwoo’s silhouette on top of the bed, already asleep. He walks further inside until he’s standing next to the bed, then sits on the edge. He finds his hand easily, slowly taking it in his own and bringing it to his lips with a soft kiss before placing it back down.

Wonwoo continues to dream soundly, but his face shows uneasiness, eyes closed shut and seemingly restless. 

Mingyu has never seen him sleep like this.

And then a hand reaches for him along with a voice, strained and painfully broken.

_ I’m sorry. _

Mingyu pauses. The words have never sounded so different in his ears, and it is only when Wonwoo’s grasp on his wrist turns tighter and his voice breaks into another cry of plead does Mingyu realize why.

_ Jisoo…Come home, please. _

And all so suddenly, Mingyu is just a stranger in another’s home, surrounded in all his secrets.

He’s already gone when Mingyu wakes up half past one.

He’d climbed out of bed with the hefty feeling in his chest still present and Wonwoo somewhere outside with his red vespa, an indication that tells him he’ll most likely be doing stuff alone today. Mingyu heaves a sigh as he shrugs on a coat and looks out from the window, listening to the unfamiliar street sounds of Paris below as people are passing by the neighbourhood. Mingyu thinks it’s better than the loud silence that creeps inside the guest room.

Mingyu walks the streets of what he thinks is most of Montmartre, with nothing else but Wonwoo’s yellow umbrella in his hand. He aimlessly strolls down the narrow streets, meandering through a series of colourful cafes and paintings, then sitting alone outside the pink house for brunch. He continues discovering Montmartre, stumbling upon secret sidestreets that lead to lovely sights of windmills, of purple and teal apartments, and soon finds himself at the bottom of the hill where he meets the infamous Moulin Rouge.

As Mingyu walks back up the hill and thinks back on the places he’d been to, he realizes that being lost in a city of strangers does not give him the same feeling like it used to. Something is missing, Mingyu thinks, like his left arm had been chopped off and he was just starting to learn how to write with his right hand. He’d spent so much time with Wonwoo that without his presence, he’d forgotten how to feel perfectly lonely.

Mingyu reaches a corner path with steps that lead to Sacré-Cœur Basilica. Just before he proceeds to head up, a familiar red vespa parked along the sidewalk catches his eye.

Wonwoo is sitting on a center bench on the crest of the hill. Mingyu takes the empty space next to him, silently gazing over the same Paris view. They stay that way for what feels like an eternity, watching the world move around them while they come at a standstill. Mingyu still does not understand how it came to this point, how the silence that was once so easy had turned into a silence that speaks volumes of harsh realities.

The midafternoon sun gleams in the sky above them, and Mingyu remembers how the sun used to be in Wonwoo’s smile.

But that smile seems so faraway now along with Wonwoo’s distant gaze, and what’s left of his light had already consumed so much of this world that it destroyed homes.

Mingyu takes the umbrella standing next to him, extending it open with his hands to raise it between them and over their heads. Wonwoo reacts slowly, contemplating the shade before meeting his eyes in confusion.

“There’s no rain,” Wonwoo says.

Mingyu tries to offer a smile, but his heart breaks with just the sound of his voice.

“It doesn’t have to rain to protect people from getting hurt,” Mingyu answers, “Even the sunniest days can burn you.”

The words that come out of his mouth surprise him, but his face tries to return just a little smile. Wonwoo brings a hand over his own, still holding the umbrella. He wants to say something, Mingyu knows it from the way his mouth struggles to form words, and Mingyu tries to help him.

“Last night was a mess. We’ve said very painful things that we can’t take back, and when someone says you hurt them, you don’t get to decide if you didn’t,” Mingyu tells him. “But someone once told me to become unapologetic about how we feel. So, I’m going to be braver than usual today, okay?”

Wonwoo is quiet, eyes focused on the Paris view again, but he nods his head just to let him know he is listening. Mingyu pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before he pushes the words out of his mouth.

“You promised the world, Wonwoo. You offered it to me so willingly, but I’ve seen so little of this big earth that I wasn’t sure it was possible. I took your offer anyway. I took it, not really knowing what I was doing. It was on impulse, but I needed to get away from my life and shuffle my surroundings a bit. I longed to be lost. But little did I know that I was waking up in strange cities with someone who had already found me.”

Mingyu sees Wonwoo’s jaw clench at his last sentence, but he to continues to speak like there wasn’t much time and holds onto the umbrella.

“You were keeping your promise. I know that. You showed me a world with you in it. And now I—” Mingyu chokes back tears, “I don’t think I can imagine this world without you.”

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo’s glossy eyes are pleading, lips quivering.

“But you won’t let me reach you. You’re so far in your head. Every time I try to knock on your door, you just stare back at me and go right back inside, leaving me behind. I’m not even mad. I’m sad that I can’t help but think about how I’m just a question you would never answer. The least you could give me is the truth.”  _ Just tell me I’m not an honest mistake. _

He looks so devastated now, and Mingyu watches him helplessly. Wonwoo’s hand remains on his own, pushing the umbrella towards him so it shields his whole body and before his hand slips away.

“I wanted it to be you,” Wonwoo replies quietly. “Mingyu, you don’t know how much I wanted it to be you.”

Mingyu’s heartbeat is loud in his ears as both of his hands grip tight onto the umbrella.

“I just woke up one morning, and he was gone, you know?” Wonwoo explains. “He disappeared without saying goodbye, and until now I still catch myself wondering what went wrong. People say others don’t know what they have until it’s gone, but I’ve always known, Mingyu. He was everything I ever wanted.”

Wonwoo looks so fragile. Mingyu continues to watch him as he takes a deep long breath, trying to control more tears from falling.

“Yet maybe it was my fault. A year with him was beautiful, but it reached a point where I was always leaving, flying off to different cities while he sang in bars and waited for me to come home. He never complained, maybe because he wanted me to be happy, and I was thankful. Things changed when we went out for dinner once. I couldn’t remember exactly what we were arguing about, but as soon as he turned his back on me, he never came home again.”

“I waited for him to come back. I was ready to fix things, hold on to him as much as I could,” Wonwoo breathes harshly, as if his lungs were shattering inside him and he was losing air, “But I was still too late.”

_ Don’t be late. _

Mingyu remembers the note. Wonwoo was crumbling in front of him. He drops the umbrella from his hands to take Wonwoo’s shaky ones.

“I could never forget the look in his eyes that night. They were so empty, like he was only made of my absences. I didn’t think I would lose him,” Wonwoo summons a smile then, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “Until I did.”

Wonwoo was still on his own now, carrying the world around him along with a guilt in his heart. All his layers are gone, but he’d been wearing a mask for so long that as time had gone by, he’d torn off his own skin.

“Maybe this was my karma—He was gone, but how he left stays with me.”

Mingyu uses his hands to cradle Wonwoo’s face, lifting it to face him.

“You can’t blame yourself for everything,” Mingyu tells him. “This place could be beautiful again, Wonwoo. I can make this place beautiful again.”

It is when Wonwoo gazes into his eyes, mouth forming into another detached smile, does Mingyu realize just how unfair it was to look at a person and see their love slowly slip away from your grasp.

“I’d love to be with you,” Wonwoo says softly, a broken whisper. “I just wish we had a chance.”

They take comfort in the silence above the city, standing on top of the Eiffel Tower at night.

As they look over the lighted skylines, Mingyu revisits his old feelings. It flashes through his head in moments again: Mingyu chasing the sun at Jeju Island, crossing paths at Shibuya station. Glasgow under the fairy lights, and Halloween at Amsterdam.

He remembers stargazing with Soonyoung on his apartment balcony.

He remembers his foster family, and the money his biological parents had kept under his name.

And then he remembers Paris, and Wonwoo inside the taxi cab.

The said man is looking over the city with a certain kind of calmness on his face, as if he’s finally gained his peace of mind. Mingyu realizes that they are no longer at the beginning; they have made it to the middle part, and that’s where it all ends.

It hits him all at once—pent-up emotions of happiness, melancholy, anger, and grief—weighing heavily over his soul that it could kill him.

At the same time he feels connected to the world somehow, alive in his own skin. He feels the wind in his hair and the ground beneath his feet. He’s breathing with the air in his lungs.

And then he screams.

Wonwoo watches Mingyu shout into the atmosphere. He screams but no one hears except him. He screams because he’s in Paris. Paris is so, so beautiful, and yet everything hurts. All the love left in him roars loud over the city, not knowing where else to place it.

Seconds pass before another voice joins him—Wonwoo’s broken cry spilling out into the void like a bolt of thunder.

They become two lost souls again—screaming for help, for love and loss—finding an empty space to fill with their loneliness.

Then Mingyu catches Wonwoo grinning. His laugh is soft while his eyes glisten in the night. He looks so lovely, like he belonged with the moon and his eyes mirror the oceans.

Mingyu thinks for a moment that maybe they were destined to meet, but not destined to be together.

So he will let things go. The way Wonwoo had kissed him, the way he held his hand. He will leave cities and homes, he will travel the world all over again—make deeper connections. He will leave because their feelings sunk deep into the heart, and loneliness is the only way they could find it again.

Mingyu will still keep Wonwoo’s postcard and his yellow umbrella. He thinks he will miss him most when he is high, or when he listens to that one song in his ipod.

Wonwoo will continue to fly planes. He will walk away from him, leaving him with nothing but the memories they shared together. But Mingyu will continue to love him, until a place is just another place and he no longer tastes him without tasting blood in his mouth. Until love is just another word again and not the name of the storm in his heart.

**EPILOGUE:**

T H R E E M O N T H S L A T E R

S E O U L , S O U T HK O R E A

Mingyu returns to his apartment from his recent visit to Anyang, spending a little over a week in his childhood home to see his foster family in reconciliation. A lot had happened during his trip—It’d been Minsu’s birthday and he was given the task to cook for her five friends, while a much heavier task had been in front of a headstone, meeting his late biological parents for the first time to finally pay his respects.

He thought it’d be difficult, but feelings of anger and frustration were no longer present. Instead, he made sure to thank them for the life that he was living.

It was freeing, to say the least—letting go of the things that weighed him down, heavy in his chest.

When Mingyu walks the flight of stairs and rounds the hallway, he’s met with a parcel outside his doorstep, wrapped in craft paper and laced with an orange twine.

Mingyu quickly picks it up and takes it inside, finding his name taped on a sticker with a few postage stamps. He doesn’t recall expecting a package, but curiously retreats into the bedroom to search for a pair of scissors. He unties the twine and unwraps the parcel, digging into the slit where it opens using the scissors and managing not to damage the content, revealing an envelope.

Mingyu can’t pinpoint whether the anticipation he feels are that of excitement or anxiousness. All the more curious to what’s inside the bulky envelope, Mingyu places it close to his ear, shaking it in his hand.

Unnoticingly, the contents spill out from the envelope, Mingyu’s eyes widening in shock when it lands on the floor right next to his feet. He bends down, scrambling to clean the mess of papers with the blank sides facing him.

As soon as Mingyu chooses one and turns it over, his stomach suddenly flips. He looks through the collection of photographs, not remembering how or when they were taken, he only knows the person who’d shot them. Among the photographs is a postcard of the Eiffel Tower. It brings a nostalgic smile to Mingyu’s face.

At the back of the postcard are Wonwoo’s parting words in his familiar messy handwriting:

_ Jisoo used to take a lot of photographs. I didn’t understand why. When he left, he took them with him, leaving me with nothing to remember. _

_Then, I met you. You told me to take as many photographs as I can. Who knows what they'll mean to us later?_

_So I wanted you to keep some of my intimate memories of you, how I looked at you in those private moments, how much I didn’t want to forget._

_I think I know what they mean to me now._

_While you will always have Paris, I guess I will always have you._

fin.

**Author's Note:**

> the angst jumped out!
> 
> I've been meaning to write a meanie fic, and this has been long overdue.
> 
> It's bound to happen that I would actually convert and remake an old fic I wrote into meanie because I love the story and characters so much.
> 
> kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> thanks for reading <3


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